A Game of Thrones and Faces
by WBAD
Summary: Her loyalty was his to keep; his devotion hers to cherish. In war and in peace, they'd stand together until the rivers of blood ceased to flow, and the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros was his to own.
1. The Faceless Woman

**A/N: GoT has always been one of my favorite books. And ever since it aired on HBO, it also became one of my favorite TV series.**

**Truth be told, this one shot was conceived months ago (back when the final season of GoT was airing, to be exact). Never got to finish it then and now I know why. XD **

**Slowly but surely overcoming writer's block now. And I'm happy. Just taking it one day at a time. :)**

**Thanks for reading my other stories and leaving reviews, faves, and follows on them. :) I'll always say that :D**

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**The Faceless Woman**

"_And pray tell, what service could you possibly offer me that I shall let someone as dangerous as you live — if what my men claim are true?"_

"_Give me a name, and I shall deliver them unto you. One life that will prove my worth."_

She did well on her word then. It hadn't been a full day later when word had reached him. The person with the name he'd given her had died after he fell from the battlements. But he knew better… Knew who has behind the sudden loss, and realized that he had good use for her after all.

Dressed in rags that barely concealed her chest and covered in soot, his men had brought her to him bound and gagged — a supporter of the rebels in the Reach, they said. The only reason why they hadn't left her for dead was because she'd killed more than a dozen of the men they had sent to scout out the area. Allegedly, she had also been their main culprit for dispatching several other scouts in the previous days. But as word after word had reached him, it quickly grew convoluted and made less sense than the ramblings of a madman from the North.

There were accounts that told him they'd spotted a man, then an old woman, a middle-aged pregnant mother, a young girl. The day they'd brought this culprit to him for judgment, she had donned a homely face — crooked nose, broken teeth, warts and everything.

"_I am what is known in Braavos as a Faceless Man, my Lord."_

_Ah yes… The term wasn't strange, by any means. He'd heard once or twice of the Order cloaked in obscurity. He hadn't met one, and certainly had never seen one. Well, up until this woman came and claimed it was what she was._

_He fixed his enthralling violet eyes on irises fashioned out of emerald. She was dressed in a simple womanly shift now, auburn hair twisted up into a half ponytail, hands folded primly above the rustling skirt, pale skin glimmering underneath the candlelight._

"_A woman who serves in the House of Black and White, if I am not mistaken."_

"Served, _my Lord."_

_Interesting…_

"_Humor me. How did someone like you find their way to Westeros? What purpose do you serve?"_

"_I was dishonorably dismissed from the Order, my Lord."_

_If she managed to get caught _that _easily, then he shouldn't have been surprised…_

"_I can see why."_

_A smile slipped onto her plain face, veiling some form of a jest that he was sure he was not privy to. The gesture answered to his mischievous grin, though, but it wore off as quickly as it had appeared when she uttered her next words._

"_My Lord, have you ever considered that perhaps I _wanted _to get caught? To capture your attention?"_

_He cocked an eyebrow as he turned away from the blazing hearth and the warmth it provided. "What could a Faceless servant _possibly _want from a nobleman living in Westeros?"_

_He watched the light in her eyes change as she brazenly stepped forward and came around his large ornate desk to stand before him in her rags of clothing._

"_I may be like the others — just another loyal subject wanting enough gold and food to feed me for a lifetime. Or perhaps I want something else."_

_Her smile, despite the crooked teeth and the gaps in between were intriguing — enough to compel him to find out more. With confident hands, she reached for him and leisurely traced the sigil of his House — the shape of a red crane mid-flight against a backdrop of solid black._

"_Who _hasn't _heard of Lord Lelouch Lamperouge-vi Britannia — eldest son of Empress Consort Marianne and Emperor Charles; 11__th__ Prince of the Seven Kingdoms; 17__th__ heir to the Iron Throne; Highest Military Advisor and Overseer to the Emperor's illustrious armies; Conqueror of the North? You have quite the reputation — for an eighteen year-old _boy_. How could someone like me pass up the opportunity to serve under a lord so powerful?"_

"_I see you've memorized every single ridiculous title they gave me. As if there is any real value to it at all." He laughed to himself and stepped away from her to give himself some space. "You wanted my attention, so you resorted to essentially surrendering yourself to my men. Have you not thought of the consequences?"_

"_I have no need for considering consequences when I have taken note of every possible outcome, and have prepared myself how to act for each one."_

True to her word, she had stayed loyal ever since he'd admitted her into his service — turned her into his sword in the darkness. In a year of having her in his company, he could scarcely count the number of enemies he'd snuffed out before they could strike. And it was all because of _her_, and her ingenious way of thinking. They had disagreements, but for the most part, her thoughts always ran parallel to his.

Needless to say, his father nor his family weren't very thrilled with this new addition to his entourage. When he'd ridden back to King's Landing with CC — as she preferred to be called, he had immediately been summoned to court. Entering through the massive set of double doors, he stormed into the familiar throne room with her following a ways behind — wearing a more comely face that time. To say that she had drawn the attention of men was an understatement. They had been _riveted _to her appearance alone. Appearing with him, clad in leathers and a bit of steel, she had been a _vision_. Dark wavy locks of hair, tanned skin, and brown eyes.

It wasn't her real face, she had assured him, but she appeared foreign enough to gain people's attention.

She never showed him her real face despite the number of times he had asked, or commanded. She wasn't afraid of him or his power — wasn't fazed with the way he handled external and internal affairs. Quite often, he'd asked her opinion, silently acknowledging her competence and prowess in battles. And when he would give her a name, she would leave, stay away for months, days, hours (it depended); but she always came back — her mission unfailing. Always a success.

He knew how expensive it was to hire a Faceless Man to dispatch someone. He'd often heard one of his father's council men talk of it a couple of times, so he counted himself quite fortunate for landing the jackpot in CC. And no one even need know. She maintained the face she had used when she was brought to Imperial Court with him, but in times where she lounged about his room — dining in all sorts of cheeses and drinking wine — in complete boredom or wandered the streets of King's Landing, she wore different faces.

There were days when she would resemble an old crone; other days, she would be a waif. Or if he had unexpected visitors, she would easily swap out one face for that of a man's. And still, there were times when he would find her in his room with the highly attractive face of a noble lady.

It had been disorienting at first — to have an unsolicited roommate who regularly changed faces like they were clothes or dresses. But as time passed, he had grown used to it. With the passage of time, his curiosity to see her _real _face multiplied tenfold, and he often found himself thinking of ways he could convince her to trust him enough to show him her _true _self.

"After all this time, you'd think you could trust me enough to show me what you really look like."

She gave him that secret smile of hers — the one he always found infuriating and attractive at the same time. Toying with the goblet between her fingers, she peered up at him above the rim and took a healthy sip of fine Arbor Vintage Gold.

"I didn't know my face was a cause for concern for you, Lelouch."

"After a year of seeing random and strange faces in my bed chambers, I am warranted to ask." He claimed a seat for himself on the dinner table for two and helped himself to a fine red cup. "Isn't it unfair? You see me, you know my name. And yet I do not know you. Yet."

Feeling her smile grow ever wider at the dozens of implications in his words, she abandoned her unfinished cup of wine and sauntered over to his side of the round table. With practiced grace unbecoming of the noble lady's face she wore today, she settled onto his lap nonchalantly, sliding her arms around his shoulders and pressing their foreheads together — like they'd done so many times in the past year ever since the day he'd unwittingly kissed her when they stood together at the edge of Blackwater Bay.

"I do not know why you complain, my Prince, when you've had no qualms indulging me in lordly kisses so far." Gingerly, she traced patterns on his soft cheek that was void of facial hair. "I come to you always with a pretty face. What more could you ask for from a woman without a real face? I am No One."

His hands around her waist, he slowly begun to undo the laces of her rich dress, fingers sliding barely over slips of skin. "You aren't No One. If you were, your Brotherhood wouldn't have expelled you. And you wouldn't be here."

"Touche."

Hot breaths passed from one mouth to the other as they both gave in to their wants — to feel the other's touch, to kiss as real-life lovers would, to be connected even if it was illusory and would only last for but a fraction of their entire day. Satin smooth lips caressed his own, and he idly wondered if the _real CC _would taste and feel as good as the disposable facade's.

He finished undoing the laces on her dress, and as the sleeves at the shoulders slowly slipped off, his mouth also followed the motion, tracing an invisible line that went from her lips to her cheek, down to that milky shoulder.

She leaned into him, sighing in bliss as he left kisses across her collarbone, and as his fingers wandered over soft flesh.

She used to entertain herself by counting the number of times she and this Prince had shared a bed in the dead of night or in the break of dawn. But no more… She'd lost count three months ago. It was getting dreadfully boring anyhow. And as the days wore on, it was becoming impossibly more difficult to brush off her lover's requests.

It was funny to think of him that way… A lover. Considering political standing and birth, she was far _far _below him. By all manner of common standards and practices, she had no right to even sleep in the same bed as him — much less run her hands greedily over his nude body whenever they were joined together underneath the silken and cotton sheets. Him with his comely face, and her in a stranger's mask.

Truth be told, it had been quite the surprise to know that her Prince had never been with another woman intimately before her. Twas something she took great pleasure in whenever she teased him about the Springtime season of his youth.

Before her, all he'd ever known was conquering — one campaign after another until the strongholds of the North had fallen one by one; until rebellion was quelled by his silver tongue — spinning cloaks of deceit and charming every Lady at political discourse.

Lelouch vi Britannia would make a fine ruler — had he owned his brother's birthright. But he didn't…

The Crown Prince of the vast empire was too soft for her liking… (This she gathered from her time at Court and during Small Council Meetings where she shadowed Lelouch and stood as his guardian). Odysseus was far too amiable. Always relying on the whispers of the maesters, and the counsel of the 2nd Prince. The perfect picture of an Emperor's lap dog. Quite a far cry from her Prince — who, despite his reputation as an Overseer and Military Adviser, had quite the rebellious streak when he would come to a disagreement with his father's Hand and his brothers.

Over a year and she'd seen more of his life than she was supposed to be privy too. She began as his assassin. But her involvement in political affairs and his personal life had easily turned her into something else. Personally, she liked to think of him as her accomplice. The first few months, she accepted his payment for her services in gold. But after gradually growing closer to him, the pure desire for money had waned, replaced with a growing desire to watch over him and be by his side.

And now here they were… Exchanging lovers' kisses in the gloom, offering her body for his enjoyment in the same way he gave his for her fulfillment.

He was right in saying it was a tad bit unfair that he still hadn't had so much as a glimpse of her face.

But it wasn't as if she didn't want to… It was just that it was quite difficult to peel back one face and unearth her own.

After years of growing up in the care of the Faceless Men and in servitude to the many-faced god, sacrificing one's own identity to embody the god of death had been the goal — the completion. And she had _tried_. Gods knew how hard she did.

A younger CC had no problem discarding the mask to reveal her true face — her true identity. But after years of practice and servitude, she had donned so many faces, and with each day that passed, it had become increasingly difficult to unearth her real face. Peeling off one mask only revealed another. And another. And another.

So many that she feared she had already lost herself years ago — buried beneath a sea of endless faces.

So well-versed in deception was she that it had been_ quite _easy to evade her lover's requests with coy smiles and flippant words. But underneath it all, she was _frustrated… _She'd lost count of the times she had spent time alone in his room in front of a looking glass, trying her damned hardest to peer into her own soul through a stranger's eyes.

It was utterly _irritating_. Especially now when all she wanted was to show her Prince her true face.

It would be her ultimate expression of loyalty and faith. That she trusted none but him to see through the stranger's face and know her for the girl she truly is — underneath all the masks, discarding every flimsy disguise.

Maybe she couldn't… But perhaps he would be able to help her.

Returning his ardent kiss, she slowly pulled away and rested her forehead against his. Looking into his eyes like this, it was easy to see the curiosity. And yet underneath it all, she could see his resignation — his acceptance. Because despite his requests, he never forced her hand into doing something she was uncomfortable with. Such an enigma. And what a man…

"I will need your assistance; if we are to unearth the face I held at birth."

She may not be able to impart every ounce of knowledge and secret passed on to her by her ex-brethren at the House of Black and White for him to _fully and wholly _grasp the concept of face-changing, but perhaps she could tell him enough to help her with her frustration. Changing faces too frequently in the past have muddied her own memories. She could remember bits and pieces of her old face from looking at her reflection once (years ago), but it wasn't enough to form a vivid and solid image in her mind.

It wasn't enough to conjure it up… But perhaps with his help— Would she dare?

"All I have are bits and pieces of my real face. Not enough to peel the layers that have gathered over the years." Closing her eyes, their noses brushed and she spoke against his lips. "But I remember seeing eyes of Arbor gold in my reflection once—"

He listened to her trail off, and all the while, his fingers threaded through locks of wine-colored hair; genuinely curious about what she really looked like. She'd told him to help her picture out a face — _her _face. A face he hadn't seen. And yet, he was more than willing to help her in any way he can.

And so he clung to every word, to every description no matter how vague it sounded. With it, he pictured a blank canvas — the kind that his brother Clovis always had in one of the Red Keep's many massive drawing rooms. Upon that blank canvas, he began to paint a picture of what his lover described. He didn't know if he was voicing his thoughts aloud, but it didn't really matter in the face of what was at stake, did it?

Irises fashioned out of Arbor gold.

A straight nose. Perhaps even tall and delicately fashioned.

Skin as pale as the Ladies born in the North. Maybe even having the slightest tint of pink.

Thin lips, she said. But all he could think of was a full mouth, slightly parted and peachy in color.

Sharp cheekbones and a softer jaw.

And her hair… The only memory clear enough for her. Hair the color of sun-kissed grass in the height of Spring, locks flowing like a waterfall, stopping a couple of inches above her waist.

What a peculiar face he had painted in his own mind. It was a pretty face, if he said so himself. The measure of his imagination's accuracy had yet to be seen. Subconsciously, one of his hands toyed with the locks of hair as he let her guide his hand towards her face.

The sensation of changing it _with _her was foreign to him. It bordered between physical and completely supernatural. Perhaps it was both, and he had no right to question one of the greatest mysteries the Island of Braavos was famous for. With her hand on top of his, it felt like effortlessly lifting a sheet draped over a painting perched on an easel — like tangible water in his grasp; there one moment and gone the next.

And just when he had opened his eyes to see if it worked, her weight left his body in an instant. He watched with wide, bewildered eyes as she darted across his chambers, clutching her loosened dress to her body while making a beeline for the mirror placed above the chest of drawers. Waist-length Spring green hair trailed behind her like a floating curtain. And in a speed that matched her own, he left his seat to stand behind her.

He stared at her reflection and took silent note of the unshed and repressed tears glistening in her eyes — irises fashioned from molten gold. _Arbor _gold. A pale face, her cheekbones that weren't as sharp as he had imagined, a straight nose, and lips that had a doll-like quality to them — not like he had pictured either.

But—

"Is this it?" Was his quiet query as their eyes met in the mirror.

She turned away from her reflection to face him fully, her hold on her dress loosening a bit, letting it slide down at the edge of her shoulders. "Yes, Lelouch. This is my face."

And just like that, that infuriating and coy smile found its way back to her lips. Her _real _lips, he realized.

"Is it to your liking, Your Grace?"

He returned her teasing smile with one of his own as he stepped closer, and reached for her — brushing a lock of hair behind her shoulder, but not before scrutinizing the odd color with fascination for a little bit.

"Yours is a face worthy of a royal portrait."

The teasing quirk turned into a catty smile as she welcomed his touch and let him draw her into his arms.

"Such flattery. Does His Grace think me a fool that I would fall prey to a tongue that has charmed the noble ladies of the Seven Kingdoms?"

A hand framed her cheek and guided her mouth to his. Lips fusing together intimately, both relishing in different kinds of joy — but joy all the same. Silently breaking the kiss for a breath of fresh air, her body curved knowingly into his — like she had done so many times before.

"Thank you, Circe. Truly."

And when she looked at him with a question in her eyes, he could only smile. To unearth and reveal her true face was to display her own vulnerability, wasn't it? And that alone was a show of trust and faith. And he vowed to the seven gods that he would honor that and cherish it.

"For choosing to be with me…"

And choose him she did as she told him in her own way how much she wanted her Prince. He complied with a smile and brought her to his bed, lavishing his intimate affection on the woman who'd stolen his heart.

Tonight, they could finally make up for the past year they spent blocked by disguises and masks.

Tonight, he would gaze upon her face and know it was hers — _truly _hers.

And what a night of ecstasy it would be.

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**Notes:**

**[Long ass note about the Faceless Men and their portrayal in the book]**

**I don't exactly know the ins and outs of face-changing by the Faceless Men in Game of Thrones. It involves magic and meditation and other mumbo-jumbo. They don't even touch on it too intimately in the TV series. I can't remember the process being explained thoroughly in the book either. So I added my own speculation about how it works here. xD**

**The only thing I can recall clearly from the book was Arya having her face changed for the first time. They literally gave her a dead battered woman's face and she conjured up memories from that same dead person — memories of being beaten up, of receiving bruises. And then the Faceless Man reminded her that they are but memories (hallucinations), and told her to focus on her new and "borrowed" face. To slip into that stranger's identity, and yet maintain the fact that it was nothing but a mask.**

**It's dual and complicated. And I love it. And combining that with CC's immortal witch premise in Code Geass, a Faceless Man/Woman seemed like the perfect role for her if she and Lelouch and the others were ever dumped in a GoT AU.**

**And if you're still reading at this point, then thanks for reading through the notes and the entire one-shot. xD I might write follow-ups, but eh. We'll see :)**

'**Til next time! :D**


	2. The Prince of the Rebellion

**A/N: What am I doing? I don't know. xD I changed the overall title. Plus the summary.**

**All I know is that I surrender to inspiration where it hits. And it hit right here. Obviously, this is a follow-up one-shot to **_**The Faceless Woman**_**. Depending on inspiration, I might write more or I might not.**

**Hence, the reason why this story will always be marked 'Complete.' No matter how many one-shots I add to this AU world right after. Because they're just one-shots. (Although some of them may be open-ended).**

**Thank you for adding this story to your favorites and for following it. **

**Thank you for leaving reviews Euryphaessa Gray, SomebodyLost, The221, my Guest reviewer, wootanin, Celline The Sleeping Beauty, arga101, and Orchidflen. **

**Thank you for reading **_**The Faceless Woman.**_

**Please receive my massive, "Thank you! :D"**

'**Til the next story/project/one-shot xD**

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**The Prince of the Rebellion**

He had improved immensely.

And she was impressed.

The song of steel rippled through the wind, clashing with the noise of the waves smashed against rocks as their blades cleaved the air. Neat arches and clean strokes. Controlled jabs to avoid inflicting any real damage. Though truth be told, neither of them quite minded receiving a slash or two from training.

When they first begun, she was at least glad that he wasn't averse to marring his skin with scars like his other siblings. Because everyone knew that a real sparring session held dangers of being wounded.

When she'd heard of the other princes training with sharpened wood, she couldn't resist the urge to scoff. Real men and true warriors didn't balk at the sight of a double-edged sword or a well-honed blade. Never mind the fatality of Valyrian steel in a skilled swordsman's hand.

Personally, she found it _laughable _that the royal family's Valyrian steel sword (a highly prized family heirloom) was in the possession of none other than the Crown Prince, Odysseus eu Britannia. The Crown Prince who, in her observations, obviously didn't have the stomach for war or bloodshed. And truth be told, the two were quite unavoidable when it came to ruling a kingdom. Where the heir to the throne chose to put off these matters to his brothers, her Prince knew all too well that ruling meant being in charge of _everything_.

At the very least, when she'd met Lelouch over a year ago, he was skilled enough to know how to defend himself. Although, his skills with weapons weren't enough against her. But she supposed everyone was entitled to their strong suits. He was gifted in strategy and tactics where others, like Lord Suzaku, were superior at handling weapons for fighting.

But let it never be said that she served under a Prince who was second best. He was far from it. From her time spent in Royal Court by his side, she had never seen a young man who was more worthy of receiving the right to rule than her Prince was. He mingled with commoners, spoke to his father's lieges from every corner of the kingdom, and commanded a considerable portion of his father's armies with impeccable intelligence and leadership.

A worthy Prince. A remarkable future King. If only…

He lived under a controlled environment. In the first few months when she'd served under him, she could remember commenting on how his father's small council fed and leeched off of his ideas. He knew it too, but he let them.

And for the love of all that was holy to the Seven, she couldn't understand _why_.

He was well-versed in politics. And now he was becoming even better at battling.

Their spar came to a jarring halt as her sword flew out of her grip, landing a ways away from her, its clattering lost to the rush of the sea. His hand was steadily outstretched, the tip of his blade a hair's breadth away from her pale throat.

"For someone who has instructed me about the importance of _absolute _focus, you're awfully distracted."

At the flick of his wrist, the sword at her throat was gone. The blade disappeared back into its bedazzled scabbard attached to the weapon's belt strapped around his narrow hips. Just like that, the rest of their world flitted back into focus once more. The roar of the waves were louder, the wind whipping through their faces even stronger, and the distant sound of daily life at King's Landing gradually filtered back into her ears.

There was no blood this time, she silently noted.

She ignored him as he called for her attention in favor of retrieving her wayward blade from the ground.

"You used my distraction to your advantage." Her lips curled into a vicious smile as she stood at the edge of the plateau, basking in the salty scent of the sea and the sight of the gloriously roiling waves.

Approaching her, he simply shrugged. "Some would call it dishonorable. But it's honestly just being smart."

"And practical. The real enemy won't think twice." She nodded once in agreement, clasping her hands behind her with the tip of her sword pointed at the ground. "The Knights of the Round would disagree. But honor has no place in war. And thinking about it in the middle of a fight will only get you killed. All men are savages — beasts clamoring for survival — in the chaos of life and death."

He considered saying something about how honor mattered before and after a war — not during, but she spoke up again, her braided green hair whipping behind her.

"You ought to have a Valyrian blade made for yourself." The smile morphed into a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "A selfish reward for excelling at something never hurt anyone."

His face sobered as he turned to her, his violet eyes glimmering quietly in the rays of the muted sun. "My family owns a Valyrian sword. The grand heirloom passed from father to son. Or more accurately, to the Crown Prince — or Princess."

At the reminder of one of the Royal Family's greatest possessions, she couldn't help but scoff. The weapon was _useless _in Odysseus' care — to be honest.

"And it's a waste in his incapable hands." She shook her head.

Her Prince ought to have it. You'd think a military advisor and emissary (who dealt with foreigners and traveled to different lands) or the Emperor himself would be in need of such a weapon at his disposal for self-defense, but no. Apparently, Lelouch's huge family was quite content to have the sword as a symbol of power rather than actual weapon to be used. It could be _both_. But for all it's use in Odysseus' hands now, it was nothing more than a lethal scepter.

If the steel had a mind of its own and could talk, it would be complaining.

Lelouch chuckled at her comments, appreciative of his lover's rigid honesty. "I daresay he needs it more than I do. And if all goes well, perhaps he wouldn't need the protection of the blade. After all, some may argue that the stroke of a quill-tip pen is more adept at winning wars before it can even start."

Spoken like a true diplomat.

But she knew that he was just as aware as she that the peace they had both been born into wouldn't last. The fear of the Emperor's iron fist could only last so long. The Seven Kingdoms was a _vast _Empire, and men's loyalty was shaky. Sooner or later, an usurper would rise and disrupt fragile peace. She wasn't alive long enough to know from experience. But given the history books and the tales from the Maesters, it was more than possible. It was inevitable.

The only question was: Who would?

And when that day came, would she be ready? Would they?

Her laugh was the sound of tinkling wind chimes. "Let's see that pen save them in the days of rebellion or a siege."

Touché.

"CC." He shook his head, as if to correct himself as he whirled around to face her. "Circe, when that day comes, will you stand by my side?"

Toe to toe they stood, the waters of Blackwater Bay bearing witness to yet another promise they'd both make. A year ago, it witnessed their introduction into romance. And now—

He stared into her eyes, admired the flecks of green visible in those bullion eyes. Those irises shone with pride and a ferocity she buried underneath the indifferent facade. Here was a woman who had pledged her sword to his service after he had taken her in. A disgrace she may be to her brethren. But a failure she was not in his eyes.

There were few in the royal household that he truly counted as family; namely his mother (Empress Consort Marianne), and a select few of his sisters (Princess Nunnally, Euphemia, and Cornelia), and he vowed to himself long ago that he'd protect them. Their entourage of knights and armed soldiers be damned. By aiding him, CC had helped immensely in the protection of the ones he held dear. She'd helped him snuff out more enemies than he could count, and for that, he was eternally grateful.

With her head held high, the faceless woman stood with her back straight and wordlessly offered him her sword — hilt first. A declaration and reaffirmation of her fealty and her faith to her Prince.

He had been contemplating these past few days, to turn her into a knight. But he quickly trashed that idea under the knowledge that CC wouldn't want it. She was different, and he wouldn't have it any other way. After all, their so-called contract stood for so much more. It was far from impersonal. And it was miles away from being called meaningless.

To show that, he took the offered sword in his hand; and with his eyes remaining steadfast on hers, he smoothly sheathed the blade into the scabbard attached around her own hips.

She barely had the time to fully smile in realization when he leaned in and sealed their promise with a dizzying kiss instead.

A fitting seal for a heartfelt promise indeed.

She would stand by his side forevermore. No matter the side of the river he would be on…

vVvVv

It didn't take an awful lot of time for Fate to collect on their promise when pandemonium and its dregs reached out to the farthest corners of the Seven Kingdoms.

What was supposed to be just another diplomatic mission had ended in the slaughter of thirty overseers and a battle against soldiers wearing the royal family's coat of arms on the shores of Dragonstone; freeing approximately three hundred human slaves.

The brash actions were not without unfavorable results, as his supposed acts of valor and self-righteousness reached King's Landing and gave birth to political discord.

Insubordination led to treason. And treason demanded a punishment by death.

A punishment where his mother took the fall.

A punishment that birthed the Prince's rebellion.


	3. The Call for War

**A/N: First off, thanks for the responses on the one-shot that precedes this one. xD I'm glad some people found it amusing to see Lelouch fighting (because we all know how physically weak he is, in canon), and that some are intrigued about where this is heading. And yes, I agree. :) Depending on how she's written, CC can fit Melisandre's (the red witch) role in GoT too.  
**

**Thank you to the people who left their thoughts on the last chapter; namely Darth Lelouch, Lelouch von Einzbern, SomebodyLost, wootanin, arga101, duduaoi, Euryphaessa Gray, A.A, and Celline The Sleeping Beauty.**

**Thanks for following, favoriting, and most of all, for reading! :)**

**'Til the next one-shot/update on my other stories (whenever that may be). xD**

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**The Call for War**

Marianne Lamperouge was a woman of great rapport. Her network of friends and allies at High Garden (and all its surrounding towns and cities) were aplenty. And the vast majority of the ruling houses were loyal to House Lamperouge. This wealth of allies was what urged his father to seek out his mother and add her to his growing list of Empress Consorts. By taking her hand in marriage, the Emperor secured the Reach and all that it had to offer. It wasn't a win-lose deal, by any chance. On the contrary. His mother's family was guaranteed a place in the High Council, and home and hearth in the grand halls of the Red Keep.

Thus their union birthed him and his sister…

That very same younger sister whose life was in danger at this very moment after his mother's execution, and after his open rebellion. It was his only regret; that he failed to think of how his actions in Dragonstone days ago would affect Nunnally's well-being.

The Empire was in shambles now after his show of mutiny. And if word from the common folk were anything to go by, his deeds caused a ripple throughout the kingdom. Some were in favor of his actions. Others, not so much. And there were the men and women who kept their mouths shut to avoid getting into trouble with the Emperor and his Lords.

But what the commoners thought was second only to his list of concerns.

The number one priority was Nunnally and her safety. Euphy and Cornelia too.

The other matter that took precedence in his mind was his army. How in the Seven's name was he to feed them all? Granted, the men he'd brought with him to Dragonstone were but a small section compared to the actual size of military might (thousands) he was entrusted with as Military Advisor. But 745 men were still plenty of mouths to feed. And he was just one commander.

The 745 he had now were the brave men who fought alongside him as they freed the captives and murdered their cruel overseers. Overseers that _his father _had appointed in the name of conquest and glory. And these 745 men would starve if he didn't find another ally to bring in wagons of food soon.

When they'd taken up residence at Dragonstone, Lord Jeremiah Gottwald had been gracious enough to house his men and the freed slaves. But the food in stock could only last for so long before it was completely depleted. The castle had hundreds (almost a thousand) servants, and Lord Gottwald had his own soldiers to take care of. Their current residence was naught but a temporary solution.

It wasn't as if all hope was lost though. He already had the skeleton of a fully-formed plan. A plan that involved calling on the allegiance of all the lesser Houses in the Reach who pledged loyalty to House Lamperouge even before the last King in the Reach surrendered his Crown to Lelouch's father's ancestors.

Oaths were sacred and the devout's fear of the wrath of the Seven was something he intended to take advantage of. So he'd call on his mother's family's territories. And he'd make damn sure they'd say yes.

But first, Nunnally and his sisters…

"Are the instructions clear?"

She nodded once and twirled the rolled up piece of crisp parchment sealed by his signet ring that he had given to her just after he'd finished explaining his newest plot in great detail. "I find them, show them a letter you've written in your own hand, and bring them to you. Unharmed."

"King's Landing is four days away from here. The sooner you go, the sooner you come back."

She had to leave now if she wanted to make it to the Red Keep by nightfall the day after tomorrow. He was right in saying King's Landing was four days away, but she knew it would be shorter if it was tackled by a lone traveler. As a group, it would take longer. And as much as she knew how he _loathed _to send her in this retrieval operation, she knew that he picked her for a reason. She was the only one he could trust with his sisters' lives. It was a comforting thought, and notion — to be trusted. Besides, this was hardly any different from the previous missions he'd sent her on. The only difference was that she wouldn't be giving the many-faced god a life on this one.

"I'll do my best to send a raven as soon as I have them. Expect us back within the week."

He stared as she flipped her hood up, and he saw her reach for her face. But she paused, and stepped closer to him.

He didn't know why she hesitated, but he buried the questions all the same when she stood on her toes and gave him a chaste kiss. She had every intention to make it short. But his fingers had twined themselves in her hair as he pulled her in, closer and deeper — communicating a different sort of desperation in the way their mouths were molded together.

As quickly as it began, it also ended. He broke their kiss with a quiet sigh, as he reached up and gently brushed away a stray eyelash that landed on her cheek. Doing his best to veil the sadness that shadowed his face, he watched her step away again.

One slow blink and the face he'd come to know and love had been concealed once more. Now she took up the mask of a strong and barbaric-looking woman with scraggly dark hair stopping just above her shoulders, tanned skin, and the plainest brown eyes. With the slightest flicks of her wrist, she brought her hood up to conceal the homely face, and turned her back to him as she left his chambers.

vVvVv

"Your musings weigh heavily upon you, Your Highness."

It was true. Jeremiah Gottwald could see it written all over the boy's face. He didn't expect an immediate answer, and he was right to do so. The boy waited until all his best Generals, Commanders, and Platoon leaders departed Dragonstone's impressive war room. One by one, men filed out the door, until only the guards standing sentry were left.

With a regal wave of Lelouch's hand, the guards stepped outside too, leaving Lord Jeremiah Gottwald and Prince Lelouch vi Britannia to wallow in the warmth of the blazing fires in the hearth. Upon their departure, the Lord of Dragonstone watched his Prince carefully as the latter toyed with a miniature crane.

The Prince was quite subdued tonight; somber and contemplative in his ways. He wouldn't dare to impose, but he had the slight suspicion that Lelouch's current mood was because of the woman's absence. From the moment they met, Lelouch had never overtly declared CC's purpose in his presence. What Lord Jeremiah knew, he gleaned from careful observation of the two. She was the Prince's shadow — a quiet guardian who spoke to him inaudibly; acting as an advisor while also being a soldier.

He didn't know where the woman had run off to, and he was in no position to ask personal questions, so he wouldn't. After all, did he not give full authority to his Prince ever since he set foot on Dragonstone? Their armies fought side by side to free the slaves from their overseers. And he stood by Lelouch, unfaltering, even as word reached them of Empress Marianne's execution.

"Assuming I am capable of swaying more than half of the lesser Houses in the Reach to stand and fight for my cause, do you reckon it would be enough?"

"Even with the full might of _every _lesser House in Highgarden; even with full financial and military support from House Lamperouge and Ashford, I'm afraid it still wouldn't be enough, Your Highness."

The Prince nodded once. Jeremiah just confirmed what he'd been contemplating all this time. They were going to fight a war. And if he was planning to lay siege on King's Landing, then he needed a _massive _army. He could get away with it quickly if he had air power. But even the most talented inventors had yet to create a device that traveled seamlessly through the air. His options were limited to land and water; and he intended to use _both_.

They were playing a racing game — him and his father.

Even if he _secured _the Reach, it was only one territory. Barely a fraction of his father's entire Empire. Plus, he knew it was a move the Emperor would expect from him. It was the most obvious place to seek for allies because he was Marianne's son. He _carried _the Lamperouge name. Lelouch would honestly be surprised if his father hadn't already sent one of his siblings or lords to the Reach to secure loyalty. It was a risk and a battle that he was willing to take. He'd root out every trace of Royal Family occupation at Highgarden if it meant he'd have his army at the end of the day.

Still, that left the other question of how he would convince the other territories — like the North or the Eyrie, one or the other. As for the Iron Islands and Dorne, he highly doubted those two would even bother. They kept to their own territories and were living in peace. Perhaps they didn't even care about this civil war; this war waged between a ruling father and his disinherited son. But if he were to choose between the two, he'd pick the latter without question. His best friend resided and ruled in Dorne, didn't he?

He gave a resigned sigh. "I will sail for the Reach at first light with my best men."

Jeremiah was surprised — if not a little confused. Wasn't the plan to gather his army and sail for the Reach together?

"Pardon, Your Highness. You will not be taking your army?"

"As much as I trust my soldiers and the army I brought with me, more than seven hundred men are dead weight. I need speed and convenience. I cannot wait for CC to return from King's Landing before I make the journey either."

So CC was on her way to King's Landing, was she? Jeremiah was steeling himself to ask 'why,' but he quickly realized and was reminded that Empress Marianne had _two _children with the Emperor. Prince Lelouch was her eldest, and he had a younger sister — Princess Nunnally. CC rarely ever left the Prince's side. So, the very fact that she did, meant that it was for something important. Prince Lelouch must have a great deal of trust in this woman — if he would go so far as to put Princess Nunnally's care into her hands.

Jeremiah rid himself of his contemplative thoughts just in time to see the Prince watching him closely. Like he knew and understood that he, Lord Jeremiah Gottwald, was now privy to clandestine information that concerned the Prince and his loved ones.

"I will need your assistance once again, Lord Jeremiah."

"Absolutely and without fail, Your Highness."

"I've sent CC to retrieve my sisters — Nunnally, Euphemia, and Cornelia. They will seek refuge in Dragonstone once they arrive. I trust you keep them in good faith."

"Of course, Your Highness. And I assume command of the castle and its garrisons will fall to Princess Cornelia when she arrives?"

The Prince nodded. "If that is her wish."

His older sister was as much a woman of military prowess like him. Small wonder they got along too well. Plus, it certainly couldn't hurt to have another seasoned military royal at his side.

"What of CC, Your Highness?"

"Depending on how this mission will fare, I may be in Highgarden for quite a while. CC is free to travel to the Reach if she wishes." The Prince stood from his seat, his cloak of midnight black falling around him as it swayed in the wind. "Just send over a raven to let me know she's coming."

He needed to write a letter to his mother's parents. It had been a good three years since he last saw them in person. Idly he wondered if they would recognize his handwriting, or if they would welcome him at all when his ship would dock on their side of the sea.

Jeremiah stared after the young man as he left the war room quietly. Though he had voiced his agreement to His Majesty's plans and courses of action, he doubted the Royal actually heard him. The youth was far too preoccupied mentally for his own good, and for people like him, he knew it was best to leave them to their musings for a bit longer than most.

In the meantime, he'd take the initiative and see to it everything is prepared for his Prince's journey to the Reach come morning.

vVvVv

The winds and the seas looked upon his journey with favor. Perhaps too favorable, and he was suspicious.

It was silly to suspect such things as natural elements.

But when he arrived at Highgarden's only port, the Prince realized he was right to worry. The journey was good. So of course their arrival had to be unsavory. He sent word to his grandparents before he came, and he received no reply. Yet he still pushed through with his plans.

Soldiers bearing the sigil of House Lamperouge waited for them at the docks.

But it wasn't in pleasant greeting as some of his solders were naive enough to believe. Yes, they escorted him and his men to the family fortress, but there was no trace of warmth in their heavy instructions; nor was there any familial greeting for him when he stepped foot for the first time in three years in his mother's childhood home.

There was hostility instead as his grandfather scrutinized him coldly with the sternest glower he'd ever seen.

And there, in the middle of the great hall, the Prince beheld the ornately carved casket that housed his mother's remains.

The consequence of his insubordination; the price for his treason.

The embodiment of his failure…


	4. Between Loss and Love

**A/N: Thank you arga101, Lelouch von Einzbern, woo tanin, Anime-Manga-Music-Lover, and Orchidflen for leaving kind words and expressing their interest. Thank you to you for reading, and for adding this to your favorites, also for following the journey…**

**I didn't think I'd be writing another one. But nevertheless, I did. Happy reading! :) And 'til the next one.**

* * *

**Between Loss and Love**

He should have known better than anyone that hearing and reading about tragic events was worlds different from seeing the evidence up-close.

He'd heard the stories, knew how his mother lost her life because of a crime he committed. But seeing what remained of her now told a different and more vivid story. The Silent Sisters had done their part in preserving the body, but despite all the care given, the remnants of his mother's death remained.

She was not given the reprieve of meeting a peaceful end. They stitched her head back onto the rest of her. But it wasn't enough to conceal the despair and the betrayal evident in her expression. Her mouth was slightly twisted into a grimace, as if it had been forced and sewn shut. The bouncy raven hair was limp and looked slightly frazzled. Yet another reminder that her head had rolled on the ground after the executioner chopped it off. Stripped of all her glory. Now forever remembered as the nurturer of a traitor.

_What had he done?_

His _mother_. The woman who raised him; cared for him and gave him warm smiles. The woman who lulled him and his sister to sleep with her sweet singing voice. A fitting Empress and a competent swords-woman. A legend — and reduced to nothing when her fool of a son took matters into his own hands and righted misdeeds in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He had been _so good_ at masking the grief, shoving it down deep where it couldn't impede or influence his decision-making in Dragonstone. But right here, in his mother's home, standing above what was left of her, he was powerless to stop it. Couldn't do anything as the shame, the guilt, and the grief overwhelmed him. They laid claim on his thoughts, and tore his heart to shreds; coercing him bit by bit to express his sorrow.

_He _had brought this upon her. And no amount of apologizing would bring her back to life.

His tears were _useless_. Even his silent eulogies would do no good. So he pushed them back again, _refusing _to yield to the boy within him that languished for his mother's lost affection.

Idly he wondered what she thought of him in her last moments. Had she even _spared _a thought for him at all? He hoped she, at least, saw him as a traitor — and the person to be blamed for her death. Because that was what he was.

The Emperor might have issued the decree. The executioner may have swung the axe.

But _he, _Lelouch vi Britannia — her flesh and blood, her firstborn, had taken her life. He marked her for death from the moment he opened his mouth and played god as he stood on the deck of his Imperial vessel and commanded his men to slaughter the overseers.

And yet, there was that small traitorous part of his mind telling him that her death was both a consequence and a sacrifice. It was one he needed to make for the sake of the lives of _thousands _of innocents. That traitorous voice whispered that her death was the final push; the last urge that finally compelled him to take a stand against the oppression and the persecution of the innocent plaguing their land.

But was it even _worth it_?

He saved thousands, and he lost one that was so valuable.

That was why he sent CC — to go back for Nunnally and his two other sisters.

He wouldn't lose anyone else he cared about in this war. No more. One was one too many.

"I didn't think they'd bring her here." He found himself speaking up as a familiar set of footsteps entered the great hall where he'd been escorted to upon arrival.

"Of course they would. She is a daughter of the Reach, and she belongs in Highgarden. 'Tis a great mercy especially after what _you _have done."

His grandfather was a tall and imposing man, his features hardly betraying the signs of his age. He could recall the many times they'd visited the Red Keep under official visits and the re-swearing of oaths during his childhood. And as a fifteen year-old boy three years ago, he could still picture the ever-present grimace set on the Lord's face. That hadn't changed.

Only, his grandfather appeared more gaunt; wearier. An intimidating Lord of Highgarden he may be, even _he _couldn't fully mask that he was in mourning along with his wife — the Prince's grandmother.

"Your father mounted my daughter's head on a pike. Outside the walls of the Red Keep. As if she were no more than a _common criminal_. Marianne was a valiant soldier. A dutiful daughter. She deserved _every_ good thing that came into her life. Yet somehow the gods have cursed her, and she unknowingly birthed a _demon_ into this world."

Lelouch stood still, sorrowfully gazing at his mother's pallid face as the man who sired her flung accusation after accusation at him. And the Prince didn't blame him. The words his grandfather spoke were words just waiting to be said. It was all true.

"What have you to say for yourself, boy? Your recklessness cost you my daughter's life. And _for what_?! Because of you, the Seven Kingdoms are in turmoil. You are without a doubt, your father's son."

His father's son…

But that was so far from the truth. He knew that better than anyone.

"I was ready to ride for King's Landing the day my father summoned me. I sent a raven to tell him that I was coming to face my judgment. But this wretch who calls himself Emperor killed her anyway as I was on my journey to the Capital." Unnervingly calm, he turned to his grandfather and stared the taller man in the eye. "So with all due respect, Lord Lamperouge. Let me ask this question. Is it just to take an innocent woman's life to threaten a man into appearing for trial?"

It felt like hours had passed, when it had only been a good half a minute, before the high lord of Highgarden gave him a response. "Were you being threatened?"

"Her execution was meant to goad me; meant to lure me into storming the Capital to take revenge."

And he very nearly did. He was _set _on continuing the journey to King's Landing after he'd heard just so he could face his mother's murderer and make him pay. But CC was the voice of reason who made him realize it was nothing but a trap.

"So they could show people that I was mad. That I had set slaves free to undermine the authority of the Crown and out of madness. As if their actions at Dragonstone weren't disgusting enough. Her death was bait that I didn't take."

The other man grunted in response, scrutinizing his grandson even further.

"You haven't answered my first question yet, Lord Lamperouge."

"No…"

"I may have undermined my father's orders for the sake of now-freed men." His grandfather raised an eyebrow at that, but the Prince continued. "And people call it a crime to disobey the Emperor's orders. But what of murdering the innocent?"

It was all his fault. He was the reason his mother died… He knew it in the core of his being.

But for the sake of winning his grandparents' favor, he had to say another lie. Had to deny his own fallacies.

He had to swallow it all though; had to force his silver tongue to spin deceit and turn him into a self-righteous bastard; to convince people that he was a man who didn't make mistakes. That the world was always wrong; but not him.

The older man's gaze was nothing short of lethal. It was a scathing glare that spoke _volumes _of what his grandfather was thinking of at this very moment. For a few breaths, silence festered between them; two powerful Houses clashing in a battle of wills, locked away in their own minds. And after what seemed like long minutes, the older man turned away and stalked towards the raised platform — towards the castle altar just past his daughter's coffin.

"Your sister needs you more, does she not?"

That was a question he didn't expect. So after carefully considering his words, the banished Prince hesitantly offered.

"If all is well, she is halfway to Dragonstone by now; protected by my most loyal companion."

A snort of derision. "That foreign woman you drag with you everywhere you go."

He considered asking if his lordly grandfather had any problem or qualms about CC's standing and her constant presence usually beside him — not that his relationship with the woman was anyone else's business. To be sure, it wasn't the point of this meeting. He came here to prove his worth and enlist the Lamperouge house's and the lesser houses of the Reach's support in his war.

"You did not deserve to lose your daughter for something she didn't do. It was _my _price to pay and I would have gladly paid it. Executing Empress Marianne was not an act of justice — just petty bait. It's an act of war. Will you not avenge her death?"

There was the up-and-down scrutiny he had expected — had been wanting ever since this conversation started.

"I give you command over my army and the lesser Houses of the Reach will follow. We march into war and I presume we lay siege to the capital. What then, boy?"

"We dethrone a tyrant, and liberate Westeros from his control. Your name shall be written in history for years, grandfather. This stand will be your legacy."

The skepticism on that aging face was one for history books indeed. But he didn't back down — didn't flinch at the stern stare that pinned him down and examined him from every angle. "History is written by the victors."

"That's why we will win." Lelouch drawled flippantly, as if it wasn't a matter of contest.

It wasn't going to be. And he would make sure of that. After all, he _was _deemed a Conqueror and appointed as the Crown's Military Advisor _for a reason_. The day the Emperor took lives that meant everything to him was the day the man lost one of the Throne's greatest assets. The day he cut off Marianne's head was the day the tyrant declared war against a _boy _— a Prince —who had the power to bring down an Empire.

Lelouch knew that one of the conditions he needed to win this war was military might. He had to add that to his own affinity for strategies and nasty foul play. All was fair in war, wasn't it? The Knights of the Round would spit on his ways, preaching about honor. But even _they _kept their mouths shut whenever the 11th Prince returned from his campaigns (during the early years of resistance), bearing gifts from various territories and good news that this region and that was loyal to House Britannia once again.

But now, he needed to start a war to bring peace. That was what he needed to do. What he _should have done _from the moment he began to suspect his own father of dark dealings.

It felt like forever once again as Lord Lamperouge stared him down, but at long last, he spoke his truth as he approached his daughter's lavish temporary resting place and peered into the shell of a woman now long gone.

"For the sake of Marianne's blood running through your veins, I will give you the Reach to command." His eyes bore down on the Prince, not relenting one bit. "But you take one misstep; give me _one reason _to think that this is naught but a fool's errand, and I will _personally _see to your demise to stop what others would call 'a senseless war.'"

Threats… Threats and promises that weren't very good, even for his grandfather. Once war was in full swing and _he _would die as the perpetrator, some loyal follower or other would just take it up again. Nevertheless, dying wasn't exactly a part of his master plans, so the Prince merely bowed — deeply and at the waist, acknowledging his grandfather's mercy and generosity, offering up promises with that sweet silver tongue that quelled uprisings in the past.

vVvVv

For women of royal birth (for Princesses), Lelouch's sisters weren't very difficult traveling companions. They weren't prissy; nor were they overly attached to luxury that their high birth so frivolously provided. She was a woman who rarely thanked the Seven, but perhaps she would for this specific occasion. CC could scarce (and adamantly _refused_) to imagine what traveling would be like if she was tasked to bring Guinevere of Carine out of King's Landing instead.

Infiltrating the Red Keep had posed small dangers when she had been alone. Being able to change faces at will was a gift (albeit a hard-earned one), and it had been _so easy _to get Lelouch's favored sisters to agree. Nunnally had complied without much of a fight, and so did Euphy. Cornelia proved a bit more difficult but after seeing sense, the 3rd Princess of House Britannia did agree, and immediately expressed concern for her younger brother's well-being.

The capital had been in a state of unrest. One of the Emperor's children died. An untimely murder that shook the foundation of the Crown, leaving the festering city in mourning. Though CC could have cared less, she knew her three female companions were far from not caring. One of their brothers had just _died _after all. But on the other hand, the three understood the dire situation they were in — especially Nunnally. Escaping the palace in secret and being with the brother who loved them so much was the most prudent course of action. Even Cornelia agreed steadfastly to it.

The journey back to Lelouch was more difficult.

Because none but her Prince knew about her real face, CC had to maintain the face she constantly used in the presence of the Emperor's Court — the face Nunnally, Euphemia, and Cornelia knew and acknowledged. Being unable to change faces at any moment was a bit of a snag in the stealthy part of the plan. Four traveling women shrouded in cloaks weren't all that inconspicuous as one could hope. At least, it drew minimal attention whenever they blended with equally secretive people staying at ramshackle inns.

Still, trouble could not be avoided. And there _had been _an occasion or two when unsavory men had taken interest, and thieves tried to swipe something of value. She and Cornelia dealt with them swiftly and quietly, keeping Nunnally and Euphemia behind their backs whenever the ambushes happened on the open road.

Tonight, they stayed at the inn closest to the nondescript port that had boats to sail them to Dragonstone at dawn. They had been lucky to find a crew member of one of those boats. A sufficient amount of gold coins and they had themselves two cabins prepared and reserved to take them to Lelouch's current fortress come time to sail.

She stood close to the window of the inn, staring up at the blanket of stars — after the raven that took flight for Highgarden with her concise message strapped to its back. Just as she promised Lelouch. She'd bring his sisters, and she did. All that was left was the brief journey by sea into Dragonstone.

"CC…"

She thought the Princess had fallen asleep, but apparently not. CC felt slightly sorry for her, and admired her courage at the same time. Nunnally obviously hadn't traveled to far-off lands all that often yet, and whenever she _did _happen to, it had been with a massive entourage and she was sheltered in a caravan with comfort and security provided by her father's guards. So journeying with CC and her sisters on nothing but horseback was a bit of a rough adjustment — to say the least.

Bundled in close to nothing but the few clothes she'd brought in the pack that CC helped her put together, the Princess was far from any sort of convenience her high birth usually assured her. But Nunnally was an angel — she and Euphemia both. Sure, there was discomfort and hesitance in some cases on their part, but they didn't vocally complain.

Even now, as Nunnally sat up in the inn's musty bed (the best this piss-poor establishment could offer), CC knew it was probably difficult to sleep — what with all that lay ahead of them and what these Princesses just left behind by following her to be with the Prince that started the rebellion.

"You must rest, Your Highness." Was her only answer as she closed the shutters and turned to Nunnally with her long unbound hair.

"You do not intend to sail and stay in Dragonstone with us, do you?"

Perceptive… Marianne's daughter and Lelouch's younger sister by blood indeed.

She didn't know how Nunnally knew about her plans to leave Cornelia with her sisters in Dragonstone and sail for Highgarden. She said as much to Lelouch in the raven she sent; that she would take them to Dragonstone and she was following him to Highgarden. But in a year of serving under her brother as a faceless assassin, CC met with the younger sister often enough to witness just how much the girl had heightened senses and impeccable discernment.

So CC didn't deny her the confirmation and the knowledge she needed.

"No, I do not. I promised your brother I would take you to Dragonstone, and I will. Lord Gottwald is expecting you and your sisters. But I'll be following the Prince to Highgarden. He would have need of me sooner or later."

And it was true. Even if she _were _to stay at Dragonstone, there was nothing for her there without her Prince. No doubt, Princess Cornelia would be working with Lord Jeremiah and coordinating with Lelouch. CC's presence in Dragonstone would just be a waste. She answered to no one but her Prince, after all. She would be of more use to him if she was by his side than being far from him. She'd just loiter in his chambers in the fortress all day and that wouldn't be good.

"I wish to come with you."

There was silence before CC gave her answer. "If all is well with your brother's business in Highgarden, he may very well return to see you at the fortress. There won't be any need to do more traveling than you have already done."

The Princess shook her head slowly, folding her hands primly above her lap — a young lady trained in Court. "My Lady, they brought mother to Highgarden. I attended services in the Sept of Baelor, but I wish to be there when they finally lay her to rest. I want to be with my brother too."

Not a plea. Just a quiet resolution.

And how could CC deny her that. Plus, she knew Lelouch would be absolutely _ecstatic _to see his beloved sibling again — albeit all the fretting and doting that would commence.

"Is that what you truly desire?"

"If it will not endanger or ruin careful plans, then yes please. It is my desire."

Not for the first time, CC admired Nunnally's resolve and her level of understanding. Because even in the midst of her own personal desires, she still had it in her to be selfless and think about others — prioritize what she deemed important for the betterment of everyone.

She didn't want the Princess to wait, and so she offered a curt nod.

"As you will it, Your Highness…"

It was a conversation that kept playing in her head, even as Princess Nunnally had drifted to sleep — a pretty smile on her youthful face.

vVvVv

It was not wise to spend so much time in one place when one wanted to erect an army massive enough to dethrone the current ruling House. But politics was part of war. And if he had to play the generous and benevolent Prince to wholly cement the deal, then he'd do it. At his grandmother's doting and her accompaniment, Lelouch spent the next few days traveling from one lesser House to another, sharing hearth and home with lords and ladies, visiting old friends from childhood — faces he barely saw growing up in King's Landing, but still very much treasured and remembered.

And to solidify this new alliance and to toast to a glorious victory ahead (his grandfather's dramatic words), Lord Lamperouge declared an evening of gathering together to share meals, and to honor the life his late daughter lived.

Seated on the dais, next to his grandparents, partaking in various courses and listening to musicians perform solemn hymns and entrancing melodies, Lelouch felt like a stranger and not at the same time.

In the past hour, he had conversed with more ladies and lords than he dared to count in the days he'd spent here. Smiles and pleasantries were second nature to him at this point in his life, but it was still mentally taxing, if he had to be honest. And although it was pleasant to see childhood friends the likes of Milly and Rivalz, Lelouch couldn't stop himself from dwelling too much on the raven that came today. The letter having been written the day before yesterday, he figured his sisters were safe with Lord Gottwald now, and CC was on her way to Highgarden. And if he got his maths right, it wasn't far-fetched to guess that she could be arriving anytime tomorrow or tonight.

Just thinking about her arrival made his blood thrum with anticipation. Obviously, she couldn't cram everything she'd learned from her brief visit to King's Landing days ago to retrieve his sisters in one letter, so she had _plenty _to tell him. Plus, would it be horrible if he inwardly admitted that he just didn't feel completely right without her by his side?

Another hour passed and the feasting still hadn't died down. The socializing was in full swing. There were no revelries, and getting drunk on wine was strongly discouraged tonight out of respect for the mourning family, but it didn't deter the guests from cracking jokes at the table, singing songs together, and watch performances change from one to another.

All this as if a there wasn't a war to be fought.

But these people and these families deserved this time, he supposed. One night of blind yet controlled enjoyment before they would descend to killing fields. He was just waiting for CC's arrival, and then give her a day of rest in Highgarden before he'd gather all the lords to discuss final war plans and other allies to summon. After that, he would leave Highgarden, and set up a covert meeting face-to-face with his childhood friend across the Narrow Sea.

He didn't have to wait long, it looked like. He'd spotted one of his grandfather's messengers across the grand hall from the moment the gangly youth slipped through the double doors and past the stern-faced watchmen.

The Prince didn't know the boy. He'd wager they were of the same age though as the youth bowed before the Lord and the Lady of the Reach before he approached the Prince's seat to deliver his news. No, it really didn't matter who the boy was now. All Lelouch cared about were the words he'd murmured quietly just for him.

He had unannounced guests loitering in the outer courtyard, sheltered in the outdoor barracks until their identity was confirmed.

"A woman waits for you at the gates, Your Highness. Calls herself CC."

It was all he needed to hear. All he _wanted _and had been _waiting _to hear.

There were only rushed and pleasant excuses for his grandfather whose stern gaze followed him as he left through a less noticeable door, slipping past wandering guests and the watchful eyes of the castle guards, ignoring the startled calls of some of his men as he rushed past. One hurried step after another, not pausing to think or so much as loose a deep breath, eyes wandering everywhere until he reached the outdoor barracks.

Two faces. Not one; but _two_.

His lover with her familiar mask slipped into place, with another face he dearly missed.

Shoulders sagging with relief, there were no words as brother and sister rushed for one another.

His arms wound around her firmly, holding her to him when the first sob from the Princess reached his ears. Murmuring words of reassurance into his sister's hair, he patted her back and hugged her closer — so relieved and assured that she was at last _miles _away from harm's way. Miles away from his father's clutches and his other siblings' awful schemes.

Slowly, his gaze met CC's over Nunnally's shoulder. And the faceless woman let a smile grace her lips as she inclined her head in her Prince's direction.

Euphemia and Cornelia in Dragonstone. Nunnally now held in his arms. Delivered safely… Just as she promised.

He hoped she could see it in his eyes — his wordless gratitude. He would be forever in debted to her for what she had done — for what she had accomplished today.

Thank the gods for her.

Thank the gods for Circe and her unyielding loyalty.

vVvVv

She had so much to say to him… So many plans in need of divulging — intelligence gleaned from stalking through the halls of the Red Keep and listening in on passing conversations as she hurried to retrieve the Princesses that day.

But he would have none of it — adamantly _insisted _that she tell him in the morning. Not tonight.

Not tonight in his bedchambers in Highgarden. Because in the privacy of locked doors and shuttered windows, he would have none of the scheming. Let his assassin tell him outside of this room tomorrow. He'd tied up his plans for the night. Ensuring Nunnally was comfortable in her own room, heavily guarded by his own men; tying up business with his grandparents; excusing himself from the guests.

She watched with ever-growing amusement as he grew restless, just _barely _keeping himself from taking her hand and breaking out into a full run across the hallways just to reach private spaces in record time.

He'd spared the guards outside his room a nod of thanks before he wordlessly ushered her in. Without much preamble, she discarded the mask, letting locks of her natural hair tumble free as her face settled into the one she held at birth — as fluid as water.

He reached for her then, and she let him. Framed her face in his hands as an invisible force tugged them both together until their kiss lit the blood flowing through their veins on fire.

Lips, teeth, tongue, flesh — bared inch by delectable inch. He drugged her with his heavy kisses. Left her breathless, naught but a sigh filtering through the shared and minute space between their mouths. Her hands and his fingers, a whisper of movement on each other's clothes — stripping fabric away bit by bit.

Skin… They were so desperate for it. And neither of them were in the mood to truly dig deep and understand why. Perhaps it was to momentarily forget fresh wounds or bury the memory of what worrying had felt like during their time apart.

Truth be told, she hated it. Hated how dependent she had become to his existence. Hated it because it was the same force and the same reason that drove her to live — not just exist. But to _live_. She _hated _the thought of losing him — of being ripped from his side. Without lengthy discussions and overbearing words, she knew he felt the same. He'd told her once that his growing dependence on her was turning into a crutch. But he allowed it anyway…

Because the hard truth was that they were both slaves to the same masters.

Loyalty. Faith. Commitment. Devotion.

Love.

She came undone in his hands, surrendered to her desires and his. Offered her body for his enjoyment, let him take as much as he wanted as he surrendered himself to her too.

In the light of the fire blazing in the hearth, their bodies tangled together, writhing and moving in deliberately sinful motions. Twisted sighs and deep moans reverberated off of the vaulted ceiling. Arms entwined, hips joined, lips fused. Fingers hungrily finding purchase in every inch of bared skin, tangling in locks of hair. She cried his name; he whispered hers.

So much pleasure. Drunk in bliss. They both fell through the precipice, swallowing each other's cries in their mouths.

Eyes glazed over with leftover lust and utter contentment, the assassin stared at her master, tracing every inch of his shadowed face, noting the faint glimmer of those violet eyes.

Those were tears… Of joy or sorrow, she didn't really know. Perhaps it was both. And that gaze tore into her as she cupped his cheek solemnly and kissed his lips again. If only to rid him of that expression.

Sorrow, relief, gratitude; an apology to no one and everyone — all rolled into one, swimming in those expressive violet eyes..


	5. The Violent Road

**A/N: I can't say this enough, truth be told xD**

**Thank you so much readers. Thank you for following this story, and for adding it to your favorites. And to Lelouch von Einzbern, Darth Lelouch, my Guest reviewer, Euryphaessa Gray, woo tanin, duduaoi, and SomebodyLost. Please accept my gratitude for leaving feedback on the one-shot before this one.**

**I love your guys' speculations about where this is going. And plus, it's nice to know that we're not alone in thinking Lelouch and CC are soul mates. So here's the other installment.**

**Until next time again~ :)**

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**The Violent Road**

She was used to seeing him like this; decked in finery like a true prince and directing a meeting of twenty men on the subject of warfare. She never sat at a chair with the men. No, they wouldn't want a woman there ruining their fun or stealing their glory. But it never ceased to amuse her. That these grown, adult, and battle-hardened men could sit in a meeting with an eighteen-year old boy at the head of the table, raptly listening to every word and weighing in when necessary.

Had it been any other, she would guess that some of these lords, generals, and commanders would feel so affronted. But Lelouch vi Britannia was a military advisor of the Crown first before he became a rebel; before he _deigned _to question his father's leadership and validity to remain on the Throne. His early campaigns at fourteen yielded flawless results and earned him reputation and respect. Of course, four years wasn't much experience compared to other seasoned men, but quality of results easily outweighed quantity in this case.

The gods gave him four years to prove his worth, and he blazed his trail of glory across the land — enough to earn respect from noble families and soldiers groomed for battle alike.

In war meetings much like this one — where he was fully in-charge, her Prince was famous for disallowing any guards within the room. Men assigned for watch were to stand a good ten feet away from the doors. No others were allowed inside a war meeting, save for his own guard:

Her.

Perhaps it was unwise and extreme. And also very reckless. But it was still practical… Besides, the worse that could happen was an infiltration by one or two spies. But they'd be dead — with knives in their necks — by the time she was through with them, and before they could even leave the premises. Her gaze said as much when a young general caught her stare, scrutinizing her with a curiosity that always struck the minds of those privileged enough to be a part of Lelouch's war meetings. She knew exactly what he was pondering. The youth was likely wondering what a Conqueror was thinking, allowing a woman into his service like this.

"My scouts have reported seeing movement in the North. Schneizel is there to hold and secure loyalty in these times of unrest."

"With all due respect, Your Highness, do you still intend to take the North for your own forces before we take King's Landing?"

"Schneizel can have the North. It won't matter when King's Landing falls under siege."

"What of the other territories?"

Schneizel will try to pin him at the Crossing to the South. And if his informants were good on their word (if Cornelia's eyes on the West were anything to go by), Casterly Rock was in a state of internal unrest as well. Cornelia used to hold the West, but with her out of King's Landing and away from his father's advisors, Lelouch honestly didn't know which Prince or Princess was in-charge of overseeing that territory now. He had slight suspicions that it would be Guinevere, but doubted his older sister would deign to leave the comforts of the palace. But the fact that the Rock was stirring gave him an opportunity he couldn't possibly resist. He had suspected for a while now, and he couldn't count his lucky stars enough for giving him the foresight to call on old life debts for the sake of this after what had happened on Dragonstone.

Refusing to divulge his plans, the Prince merely explained the basics, the bare bones of what he intended to do. It was enough to satisfy the generals and the lords. And when the meeting gradually adjourned, the men filed out of the war room, leaving the Prince and his most valued confidant alone.

She didn't _dare _slip off the mask outside of their private bed chambers. So she merely settled for approaching his chair just as he sat back against his comfortable seat, fingers adrift over the exquisite detailing on the large map.

"Will you be sending me to the Rock or Dorne?" Her voice was quiet under her breath, barely a sliver of sound, careful to keep it that way so even the ears hiding in the walls couldn't hear.

Lelouch's reply was just as inaudible. "Neither, CC."

"What of Suzaku and your armada?"

"My father sent envoys to his wardens the moment I declared open rebellion. Suzaku is doing what he must to covertly sail his armada to Dragonstone. All we really need to worry about now is the land journey to the South — to take the city."

Normally, she wouldn't. But the moment he quietly gestured to his lap, CC didn't hesitate and immediately made herself comfortable. His arms came around her, letting her curl up closer against his body. The hand at her back casually placed the encompassing hood over head, so her face lay in shadows. Concealed, she flawlessly discarded the mask and rested her head comfortably on the space between his collarbones.

"We don't need to take the Rock. Why sully ourselves in blood and exhaustion, when it's armies can come meet us at the Crossing instead?" He traced the delicate bridge of her nose and watched the realization dawn in her eyes.

"You—"

"Called on the life debt Stadtfeld's daughter owed me. Plus, it doesn't hurt that Lord Stadtfeld's daughter seeks to undermine her lordly father at every turn."

The genius in his plan was evident, but there were still holes. A frown made her brows furrow as she tilted her face just the tiniest bit to face him. With dainty fingers, he smoothed her forehead and kissed each of her eyelids.

"It's a volatile alliance." Was all she could say.

"Leave Lady Kallen to me." An adder's wicked smile beamed at her. She didn't like when he intentionally kept secrets like this from her. But he already knew that, so his grin widened even more. "It's not anything that will endanger the lives of men. And this is my surprise for you." Fingers tickled her chin. "In the meantime, do you not trust my silver tongue?"

She chose to ignore his quips and made to rearrange her legs strewn across his body instead.

"You have men in Dragonstone, two legions from the Reach who are riding with you, fifty or sixty something ships from Suzaku's fleet, and a potential ally in the West. Aren't you spreading your army too thin? Because if an ambush happens and reinforcements won't come in time—"

"It's a gamble. And it's one that I'm willing to make."

"Your flippant manner in dealing with the odds can be a bit concerning." She mused, eyes fixed on the figures scattered throughout the map.

"Darling, you _love me _when I beat the odds."

"I do not recall ever saying such a thing."

The comment was blasé. So _utterly _nonchalant. Had anyone dared to shrug him off like she did would have realized their mistake and had already bowed down in submission and apology. Only Circe would dare. Only his assassin. And for that, he couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking as he laughed to his heart's content.

"You're rather difficult to impress, aren't you?"

Her lips unfurled into a small and secretive smile — one only her Prince would ever see.

vVvVv

As much as he loathed to part with the sister he treasured so much, Lelouch had to let her go. The gods knew how much he wanted Nunnally here, within his sights and in the protection of his lover and his personal guards. But as well protected as she was in Highgarden, he knew it wouldn't be forever.

A day or two from now, he would be leaving, traveling to raise hell and war. No way was he dragging his sister with him from one war camp to the next. Nunnally couldn't remain in Highgarden either. The Reach had vast lands, but it was easy target for any enemy coming to ambush it from land — not that he planned on that happening to his mother's home anytime soon. Dragonstone, on the other hand, was mostly a closed-off island surrounded by ocean and towering cliffs — nigh impenetrable as the Eyrie in the North. She'd be safer there. And if all went as planned, a quarter of his best friend's warships would be docking on Dragonstone's shores to protect the fortress, and hold it along with Lord Gottwald's men before receiving careful instructions.

He and Cornelia agreed. Nunnally and Euphemia would stay in Dragonstone, to wait for his message and for his fleet of ships. The latter's older sister would be coming to him. The 3rd Princess of the Realm was all too willing to assist, so long as Euphie stayed protected.

Even then, Lelouch was half-tempted to dispatch CC back to Dragonstone. He believed in the capabilities of his men. But he trusted in CC more. She would be more than enough protection for two Princesses. Hell, she kept them safe on their journey from King's Landing all the way to him.

Alas, he needed the faceless woman's sword more. A valued combatant, respected advisor, and closest confidant. Simply put, he just couldn't carry this out as properly as he did so far without her.

So Nunnally left, and Cornelia took her place. Exchanging one sister for another…

He held war councils with the generals and the men. But the initial planning fell on him, and his two companions — his assassin and his sister. Surrounded by women unintentionally yet again.

"If we take the city, what then?" Cornelia was saying, after he had laid out his plans before her. Well, the skeleton version, at least.

"I haven't thought that far ahead."

It was the simple truth. But he knew all the same that it would get a rise out of her. Declaring war against his father had never been part of the plans he'd laid out for himself this year, until that unfortunate incident at Dragonstone that served as the grand catalyst for everything. So, no, there hadn't been a time to plan for what would come after as he occupied his time with thinking about his remaining loved ones' safety and how he could possibly overthrow the man at the throne with his meager army compared to the host his father commanded. Not to mention his brothers.

A muscle feathered in his sister's jaw, as her lips turned down into a scowl. "None of father's remaining allies will swear fealty to you after you slay the man with your own hand. When this war ends, we may very well walk into another."

They wouldn't have to…

At least he knew he had the support of the common people. But that wasn't enough, was it? He needed to rule with the rich houses, and he'd have to woo them all over again. So far, he had Casterly Rock, the Reach, and Dragonstone. Barely a fraction. After the siege at King's Landing, he'd have loyal men and women venture out again with proof of good ruling and foreign trade agreements.

"His allies _don't _have to be around when we win."

Cornelia's bewildered and mortified expression was all the confirmation he needed to know that she understood what he had been up to ever since his first revolt…

vVvVv

Gino Weinberg had been born a noble, and he would remain so until the gods deemed it fit to end his life. To serve as a member of His Majesty's royal guard, as a Knight of the Round, there was no greater honor for his House. And it was with that honor that Gino stood in these small council meetings, standing as still as a rock, consuming every bit of information, yet swearing that none would leave his mouth.

"Noblemen are dropping like flies." Bismarck Waldstein's — Gino's superior and Hand to His Majesty — voice was quiet but stern, tinged with a bitterness that could only come from a shunned man.

"That's quite the exaggeration, my Lord Hand." The royal family's Grand Maester muttered into the folds of his simple brown robe.

"And yet four are dead."

"Is His Majesty not feeling well?" King's Landing's only foreign member of the small council, Lord Shaing inquired in that silky voice, tilting his head ever so slightly towards the Emperor's Hand.

Bismarck grunted. "His Majesty has far superior matters to attend to."

Shaing raised an eyebrow, a gesture Gino noted, and knew it was because of the Lord's own skepticism towards the off-kilter reason Bismarck had given. Truth be told, even Gino found it strange that His Majesty wasn't present today. He didn't realize how odd that behavior was until Prince Lelouch's revolt. And now noblemen — Lords of great houses serving in the Council of Twelve _and _the Small Council were dying one by one. There was no pattern visible either, and any sort of investigation so far hadn't yielded any results.

"If only Prince Schneizel were around, eh?" Shaing sighed in a dramatic fashion, not to make light of the situation, but to discreetly show just how _powerless _the Small Council was without the guidance of the royal family.

Gino could still remember a time when the Small Council wasn't as minute as it was now. There were seven seats around the table, usually occupied by the Crown Prince, and then Prince Schneizel — the _true _courtier and politician among the siblings according to Gino's own observations, and sometimes (when matters concerned it), Westeros' former Chief Military Overseer, Prince Lelouch. If the Emperor couldn't be present, the Hand would take his place, as was the case today.

"His Highness, Prince Schneizel is in the North, ensuring loyalty of the ruling houses." The Maester commented uselessly. It was a fact everyone in the room already knew all too well.

After Lelouch's rebellion, the empire was in shambles. And meager uprisings from the common people were numerous. Just shy of three days ago, Gino and the other Knights of the Round had trekked the city with the Gold Cloaks in tow to put an end to a local resistance. But they couldn't put an end to each and everyone. The ones especially happening in King's Landing were the easiest to deal with. The underground cells now held quite a good number of those rebels.

"Which brings us to the other matter of Prince Lelouch and his army marching towards King's Landing to take it." Shaing commented.

Bismarck waved it off as if it were no more than a fly. "The boy is arrogant. Marching towards a city housing more than one hundred thousand soldiers when he only has a legion, perhaps two. We'll drive his army against the walls of King's Landing within a day."

The Grand Maester nodded resolutely, as if he himself had come up with a solid plan to crush the enemy forces. Only Shaing's face was doubtful, and rightly so. Bismarck may be his superior, but Gino was seriously suspicious of the news they'd been receiving from their scouts over the past few days. Prince Lelouch was a wild card. Unpredictable.

Somehow, hearing about the wayward Prince's two legions didn't provide some small bit of comfort to Gino — not at all. Perhaps if he didn't know better, he'd say that the Prince was purposely spreading his army thin. But that would be _ridiculous_. It would be unthinkable because it would place him at a disadvantage, wouldn't it? That is if the Prince even _had _an army to spread thin.

But if Lelouch _was _doing it on purpose, then to what end?

"— march on King's Landing, but before he'd get here, our forces in the West and the Crossing can easily crush him and his pathetic army between them. It's over and done with." Shaing was talking… And Gino had been to busy drowning in his own thoughts to properly pay attention.

"And the late noblemen, my Lords?" The Grand Maester asked again in that voice trembling with old age.

Bismarck sighed heavily and pushed several documents aside. "The investigation will continue. In the meantime, we'll continue to keep the guards and the Gold Cloaks around the city alert. I'll have one of His Majesty's Knights direct the changes in watches every two or three hours."

"You don't suppose Prince Lelouch is behind the murders, do you?" Shaing asked Bismarck with a raised brow.

"Oh, he is." Bismarck agreed. Without a shadow of doubt on his face, Bismarck resolutely nodded. "He was always one who favored grunts to do his dirty work. Now it's just a matter of finding his lackey sneaking around the Red Keep."

vVvVv

Her little brother was _insane_.

Sending assassins to kill off their father's allies. Cornelia understood the foresight and the quick thinking in that plan, but it was so ruthless. She knew long ago how easy it was for her brother to discard humanity in the face of battling enemies — in the face of war. And some small part of her understood why Lelouch wanted Nunnally and Euphy in Dragonstone. It wasn't just to keep them safe from war. It was to keep them from seeing how dark he could turn to make sure he would win at any cost.

She understood as much with his unsaid implications earlier on, and right before he promptly gave her command of the second company marching behind the vanguard. Initially, she'd thought CC would be in-charge of that, but of course she should have known better. His constant companion rode with him at the front.

Shifting underneath her, Cornelia absentmindedly rubbed the back of her stallion's neck as she watched the second company move along. She'd gallop to the front after making sure they were all settled in their lines. A glance to her right revealed that the commander at the third company was doing the same, ushering soldiers and wagons, watchful as they left the city gates.

If anyone would have told her a year ago that she would be sitting astride a horse like this, aiding her brother to take the city in the south that they once called home, she would have scoffed in their face. But times changed, and circumstances happened too fast. She had loved Marianne to. Even if she wasn't her birth mother, she still was in some ways. The late Empress consort was a wonderful mentor, and everything Cornelia knew about the fundamentals of weaponry and warfare were courtesy of Lelouch's mother.

Needless to say, her unwarranted execution left her conflicted. She may have readily aided Lelouch for the sake of Euphemia and Marianne, but she knew she still wasn't sure about what she would do if they got to the point of actually sacking King's Landing.

She'd left friends there… Acquaintances, her own soldiers that now likely deemed her a traitor, her other half-brothers and sisters. She wasn't as close with the rest of them as she was with Euphemia, Lelouch, and Nunnally, but she still cared about Clovis and his art. Still thought of Odysseus and his stories. Still shared a love of fashion and finery with Guinevere. Still worked with Schneizel enough times to know that he wasn't as heartless as other people thought he was. Still amused with Carine and her never-ending antics.

If Lelouch _did _succeed at taking the city, would he at least spare the rest of their siblings? She knew that none of them could be considered innocent for their father's crimes against humanity, but weren't she and Lelouch involved with their father's business enough times too?

Sighing to herself, the Princess chose to cast such thoughts to the recesses of her mind for now. Steering her mount in the right direction, she nudged the animal into a steady trot as she rode for the head of her company; silently acknowledging that today was only the start of the blood-stained trail they'd blaze.

vVvVv

"_Tell me a secret…"_

_The answering smile was blinding, and he marveled at that smile — at the way her eyes shone in the candlelight._

"_A taste of one of my greatest secrets, and you're already hungry for more." She mused, idly tracing random patterns on his chest, over his collarbone. "How greedy you've become, Prince." A kiss on his clavicle before she burrowed farther into his warmth._

"_You have plenty to make up for, considering how much you know about me."_

_He spoke these words, but she knew he didn't mean them — not really. Most certainly not in a way that he would be coercing stories that she never cared to share before out of her. She knew he liked listening to her voice. He told her as much once when he had a little too much of the wine. It was a slip — a drunken confession. But it was a truth that still brought color to her cheeks to this day._

_Fondly and quietly, he smoothed her hair before conceding with a sigh and kissing her forehead._

"_I only jest, Circe. Letting me see your real face is enough. You do not have to offer more than what you are willing to give."_

_His lips were soft, his kisses tender as that curious tongue gently nudged the seam of her lips. He pushed her onto her back so he could settle fully between her legs, and her arms easily found access across his neck, twining around him. The inexplicable warmth of their affection held them both as she arched up against his body, molding herself to every curve and dip, wishing she could melt into him and stay like that forever._

_When the air dwindled slowly, she pulled away from his lips first and nuzzled his nose as she spoke against his mouth. "Regardless, I want to tell you a story…"_

_She laughed quietly as he arched a delicately curved eyebrow and settled beside her, atop the rumpled bed sheets and underneath the rich duvet that covered half of their naked bodies. He wound an arm across her hips and pressed her to him. She didn't object and merely placed an ear over his beating heart, preparing to tell a tale even _she, _herself, chose to forget about most days._

"_A long time ago, there lived a wealthy merchant's daughter who loved her seaside home in Volantis very very much…"_


	6. The Queen and Her King

**A/N: I have a feeling this is going to get depressing real quick. So before that happened, my brain was gracious enough to give me ideas on fluff. So FLUFF it is. I love fluff! ^_^ **

**And I don't believe I've ever explained the origin of C.C.'s real name in this AU. So to anyone curious: **

"**Circe" - Greek goddess of sorcery. Don't know about you, but that sounds **_**very fitting **_**for C.C. And the real pronunciation for the goddess' name is actually KIR-KE. (And here I was thinking it was SIR-SEE the entire time xD Me ish stupid. But oh well). Just throwing that out there ;)**

**Thank you for leaving kind reviews on the previous one-shot and all the others The221, Darth Lelouch, woo tanin, Euryphaessa Gray, arga101, SomebodyLost, WatchtoonzRex, and Maria-Reynne. Thank you for reading, faving, and following, everyone. :)**

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**The Queen and Her King**

They had been on the road for only three days, and yet it felt like so much longer. Thankfully, the weariness was slow to settle in the camp. But with minimal breaks in between, some small part of him feared the army he'd brought would tire as soon as they marched for King's Landing.

But that's why he was willing to give the army half of today, wasn't he?

Nevertheless, he still awoke at the crack of dawn to the sound of people polishing their weapons, and men starting campfires to roast some breakfast. They would march again come midday, and he had no qualms about it. If his estimates were correct, Stadtfeld and her forces would rendezvous with them any day now. Scouts assigned during the hour of the wolf were probably heading back to camp, as the next round of soldiers assigned to border patrol were sent out.

They won't be marching this morning, but that didn't mean he had an excuse to slack off. So, after breakfast, it would be good to review his contingency plans and speak to Cornelia and the other lords about the best course of action after meeting Lady Stadtfeld.

His assassin wasn't at her usual spot beside him when he'd woken up minutes ago, which meant she was already off fulfilling her personal errands.

"Well, _that _or she went off to train again." He muttered under his breath just as the cold air from the outside of the tent brushed against his face.

"Only _half _correct." A quiet voice declared, and he couldn't resist smiling as he finished buckling his weapons belt into place.

"Speak of the witch, and she shall appear."

"You woke up late enough as it is…" Was her reply as she discarded another one of her fake faces.

Staring at him now with those glimmering golden eyes, he raised a single brow as he rested his right hand comfortably above his favored sword, Harbinger.

"It's the _crack of dawn._"

"Come train with me. It _has _been a while since I've had a competent sparring partner." She smiled cattily, lounging on one of the crude ottomans positioned shy of a few feet away from their cot.

"What, tree trunks don't hold much of a challenge for you anymore?" He teased good-naturedly, sheathing daggers into the unlikely spaces of his fighting leathers.

CC's eyes narrowed dangerously, her fingers twitching once — twice. She was just _itching _to throw a knife at him for that joke alone, he knew.

"No, they never have been worthy substitutes. Even some of your men fall short."

"Perhaps you ought to train them yourself then."

"They need my lifetime's worth of training to match my level of skill. I daresay only your best friend Suzaku can match me."

He sometimes hated admitting it, but he knew what Circe was capable of. There _was _a reason why she always came back alive from the most dangerous of missions he'd sent her on before. There was also a reason why the servants of the House of Black and White commanded reverent fear from the people in the Island of Braavos, and why the services of a full-fledged Faceless Man cost a fortune. The Order operated as a religious sect, and from what CC told him before, she and the rest of her brethren at Braavos were forbidden from taking a life unless the many-faced god willed it.

Firm teachings and strict implementation of the rules kept these deadly warriors in line. So what a rogue Faceless Man (the likes of CC) could do in a battlefield… They could call themselves servants of the many-faced god, or whatever. But in all technicality, they were assassins.

Trained and _lethal _assassins skilled at espionage and nigh impossible to trap because every member of the order lived up to never having an identity.

To give up one's face and name… Sacrificing individuality to become everyone and no one. To serve as bringers of either cruel or gentle deaths.

It was a paradoxical thought. He couldn't fathom that kind of existence, truth be told. But it was how CC lived for years. And only by his help did she succeed at unearthing her _real _face in the first place.

It was one of the reasons why her Order expelled her and marked her for death in Braavos too. Because Circe couldn't quite let go of her name. Couldn't quite forget and discard the identity of a wealthy merchant's daughter living in her seaside home in Volantis.

"You do not think I can match your skill?" He asked curiously.

"Given enough time and training, perhaps you can." She smiled as she rose from her ottoman and approached him to take his hand and lead him outside, into the chilly air of dawn. "Although, it requires a specific mindset. One that I believe goes against every principle you cling to."

He could only manage a soft laugh. "That might be true. Nevertheless, I have much planning and preparations to take care of today, CC. I can't train with—"

"What a bold-faced _lie_."

"I would never lie to you." He exclaimed, eyebrows furrowing together into an unhappy expression. Was that what she thought of him?

CC's small smile remained however and she halted in her tracks to turn to him, chastely pressing her lips against his cheek. "What I mean is, you really don't have any pressing plans. Just the final touches… Which we both know your older sister can take care of just as capably as _you _can."

"But—"

"Won't you indulge me, Your Highness?"

He couldn't very well refuse, could he? He could say 'no' to CC. But he honestly admitted it would be hard to do.

vVvVv

Discreetly leaving the army camp for this early morning excursion hadn't been _too _difficult. The soldiers gave very little trouble, and since the Prince went to great lengths to, at least, conceal the lower half of his face, few had taken heavy note of the pair weaving through the men and squires at work.

Not too soon after, he and CC were off to… somewhere.

He couldn't tell exactly where, because CC had been intent on _not _answering his questions about where they were going. Their horses had been at a steady canter for a while now. Up until the mischievous woman challenged him and his spirited mare, Tempest, to a race. A race where she didn't even bother to play fair, because she had her head start, and he hastily nudged Tempest to a full gallop just to compete and keep up with CC and Phantom.

"This is _not fair_!" He yelled over the roar of the chilly wind as his mount jumped over rocks and thin streams, now running alongside her stallion.

"Life's unfair~" She crooned at him, tugging on Phantom's reins to direct the majestic mount towards the direction she wanted to go.

Growling, the Prince resigned himself to his fate and merely kept pace with her. He studiously followed and kept track of the beat of her horse's hooves as it thundered through the landscape, until she pulled on the reins again and gradually slowed down to a trot. They stopped at the edge of a small and thin river, with the silhouette of the far hills in the foreground. Perhaps a perfect place to watch the sunrise. Not yet though, because stars still dotted the violet sky.

Dawn's rosy fingers barely brushed the horizon, but the slightest tinge of pink was already there. And it was only a matter of time.

"Not bad for an early morning exercise. Though, _you _could have handled it better." CC preened from her perch on the saddle, running a hand through her windswept braid.

"You _cheated_." He spat, gently pulling on Tempest's reins so she slowed down and stopped beside the other horse.

"You call it cheating, but we both know that it boils down to strategy."

"_Cheap _strategy."

"You're not very good with your quips this morning, are you?" Was her nonchalant comment as she watched him dismount.

He had that unreadable expression again — the one he usually wore in war meetings and audiences with the Emperor. With the grace befitting of a Prince, he came to stand by her saddle, peering up at her face as he gauged her intent. She held that gaze and didn't look away.

By the many-faced god, he really _did _have remarkable violet eyes. That tell-tale mark of nobility that he would never be able to hide.

So lost in their little staring contest, she was seconds too late to notice that she was no longer sitting in her saddle. Rather, the boy had loosened the girths and now had both of his hands resting comfortably at her waist.

"As much as I know how you love to look down at me, I prefer us on level ground…" Her own hands on his shoulders, he set her on her feet atop the spread of green grass below them and pulled her close to his body as he said, "My Queen…"

_Queen_?!

"Your queen."

Lelouch would have laughed at the bewilderment on her face. It seemed he'd managed to catch her off-guard for once. "Yes… For you are my equal. And no other deserves to be my Queen, but you. And you alone."

He breathed the words into her skin, fondly tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered at her cheek as he held her face tenderly in his hands. Lost in that mesmerizing gaze, neither of them could tell who leaned into who. Only that they were joined at the mouth not even a full breath later.

How easily she fell into him. Just as quickly as he caved underneath his desire to hold such an exquisite woman.

Her own fingers buried in locks of ebony silk, she pressed up against him too — relishing the taste of his lips and how passionately that velvety mouth moved on hers. Sighs intertwining, tongues tangling; pulling each other close just to kiss.

And kiss…

And kiss…

vVvVv

She was glad her brother called for a break in the march. Half a day's rest was still too short considering the trek they still had to make. But because time was not on their side, the 2nd Princess of Westeros would be the first to say that half a day was generous.

And it seemed the rest of their soldiers agreed.

The sky was transitioning from the rosy pink to a magnificent light blue — the beginning of a new day. In the midst of the humdrum at camp and the noise of conversation, it was easy to lose one's self in the convenience and comfort of their current station. She just hoped none of the men or the other lords would get _too _comfortable.

In their world, peace was an illusion at the moment. And these mornings filled with normal chatter and customary activity, where not an anguished cry could be heard, were blessings from the Seven.

For how long would it last?

They had yet to encounter outlaws, bands of thieves, or (gods forbid) an opposing army. Such was the inevitable norm that armies on the march had to be prepared to face.

The march to take King's Landing would begin again at midday, but that didn't warrant her to be unproductive now, did it? She had plans to go over with her younger brother, and if she knew him at all, he would already be awake by now. Perhaps poring over maps and instructing messengers or scouts again.

Except… Her brother was nowhere to be found.

The men guarding his war tent let her in without question, and she entered only to find it empty. The fire in the hearth housed nothing but embers, and Lelouch's belongings were stowed away neatly. The cot was well-made too. Not a trace of his lingering presence; which meant the Prince had been gone for some time now. Maybe he'd gone off with CC.

It wasn't very uncommon. And she wasn't worried…

But it still made her curious.

Even when they had been living at the palace, Lelouch always had a habit of wandering far away from the Red Keep. Returning a day later, or after night fall and just after dinner. Where he went, who he saw, what he did…

It was always a puzzle for those who wanted to know. Curiosity for his frequent wanderings multiplied threefold ever since CC joined the ranks of his usual guard unit. Especially since the two were often seen together, and one was hardly spotted without the other. In turn, that constant companionship sparked some very peculiar rumors around the Red Keep in the past year. They ranged from humorous, utterly ridiculous, and down to being _very _inappropriate.

The most prevalent one was that CC was warming her brother's bed… Acting as both paramour and soldier, perhaps.

Now if that sort of gossip held any grain of truth, Princess Cornelia wasn't very sure. She believed it, and didn't at the same time. But whenever she had that human urge to find out more, she was quick to dismiss herself. Truth be told, it wasn't her business. Who Lelouch saw inside and outside of the bedroom was private matters, and it would remain that way. He deserved that courtesy.

After all, didn't _she _have her own secrets to keep?

Perhaps a _certain knight _waiting for her return in King's Landing?

vVvVv

One by one, blades of grass drifted onto his hair. Once in a while, he shook his head, and they'd gracefully fall off only to be replaced with a couple more. He couldn't do anything about that now, could he? Not when the source of the leafy blades was sitting above him, gleefully sprinkling accursed grass all over his face.

Some even landed on his nose…

"Circe—"

"Have you ever wondered what Empress Marianne thinks of all this?"

She had cut him off, perhaps even rendered him speechless. The unsolicited question left her own lips so suddenly; she, herself, was slightly startled. She hadn't meant to voice her thoughts aloud, but there was no helping it now, was there? Braving a glance at him, she took note of his bewildered stare. The reaction had been expected, of course. Her question was rather heavy, after all.

The startled expression was replaced with a frown, and he avoided her gaze in favor of staring into the distant hills instead. "It is useless to ponder on the actions of the dead, is it not?"

Despite the suddenly heavy atmosphere that settled, the assassin couldn't help smiling. Well, because it was rather difficult to miss the resemblance between mother and son. "Your mother would have given me the same answer."

"Perhaps because it's the right way to think."

"You are your mother's son, despite what others might say."

"Speaking as if you knew her longer than me…" He sounded amused. And she was right in thinking so when he tilted his head back and looked at her with that disarming smile that had noble ladies tripping on their own two feet.

"You may not believe it, but a year is a sufficient amount of time to understand people. If you know how to look for tells and ask the right questions, that is." She supplied.

The Prince let a dastardly smirk worm its way to his lips. He shifted and propped himself up on an elbow to gauge his lover's suddenly stern countenance. "Circe, what brought this on?"

"Before all else, I need you to understand and remember that you are Marianne's living legacy. While you have credentials of your own, there is no denying that you are her progeny. A part of you will always live in her shadow, just as another part will live in your father's. You have an obligation to finish what you started. Not just to Marianne. But for every individual in your army. For every freed man who now look to you for salvation. Your war has barely begun, after all."

"Of course."

He agreed quietly and righted himself, brushing off the blades of grass that still clung to his leathers. From under their little tree, he could see their horses grazing by the stream. And the sun and was just beginning to rise — golden rays stretching over the landscape.

"Don't I already know that? Where is this coming from? Such heavy talk for such a pleasant sunrise viewing."

"Heed my words, Lelouch. You never know when you will need them."

At her words, it felt as if an ominous cloud had hovered above them both. And he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. In the event in which she would somehow be ripped from his side, he wouldn't know what to think. _Refused _to even consider it a possibility. He'd doing everything within his power to protect her. So she could be with him…

So he could see their shared dreams turn into a reality… So he could fulfill his promise to her — one he made when she gave him her story. The tragic story of that girl in Volantis who'd lost her home and her family in less than a day. In the blink of an eye, her world had turned upside down. Her own life begun anew. And unhappily so.

"You speak as if you know the future. Do you intend to leave me in any way?" He was joking, but the underlying trepidation in his steady voice bled through.

Those liquid bullion eyes hardened into flinty chips of golds as she resolutely claimed, "I will always stand beside you, and fight for you. _Protect _you. I owe you my very life, and everything I have now. I will _never _leave you, Lelouch. But if I _do_ disappear, know that it's because I have been taken from you."

"Taken… from me."

"I know you will never allow that. Rest assured, that I would prevent that from happening too. But you can never really tell in war… So I need you to make another promise."

"A promise?"

She didn't give him time to interrupt or launch into a tirade of words. She _needed _him to listen. "If something irreversible happens to me, promise me you will still do whatever it takes to win this war. You will not kneel, or bow down. You will _refuse _to succumb to limitations others may try to place on you. You will _win_; for the sake of everyone you love and the sacrifices you may have to make along the way, including me."

Each and every word out of her lips tore into his psyche — into his very soul. He only knew she was saying these things because she'd seen his reactions and his decision-making when faced with mountainous circumstances and weighed down with grief. And he hated to acknowledge the fact that she was somehow right. But then again—

"We will have to win this war quickly then… Not just for me or you or my sisters. But for every man who has pledged his life to my cause. There will be losses, and these lands will bleed. I knew that all too well when I started this. And _because _I started this, I _will _see it through to the end. But even so…" He sighed before adding quietly. "A King bereft of his rightful Queen wouldn't be right at all."

Diffusing the heavy atmosphere, CC laughed quietly as she looked toward the stream and found their horses studiously drinking.

"Noble blood, I have none. Not very queenly."

"Oh, but you already are, Circe." She stubbornly tried to hide the flush that crept across her cheeks upon hearing his words. Gentle fingers tucked the loose strands of hair that came free of her braid. "Here and now, you _are _my queen. Regardless of your birthplace and the blood that flows in your veins. You are my equal in every way. I will never let anyone else tell me otherwise."

"If that is so, then will you indulge your queen?"

"It depends on her Majesty's requests."

A flash of a smug smile as he barely registered her climbing to her feet. And a Prince's pained yelp ricocheted across the trees. The faceless woman stood over him, grinning like a cat, with two daggers gripped in her hands.

Lelouch scoffed irritably while he rubbed his assaulted shoulder. "Striking a King is _treason. _What kind of Queen _does that?_"

"The kind that knows her King could benefit from some sparring."

An annoyed grunt…

"Get off of your behind, and take up your sword. We both came here to train in the first place, and _you are not_ going to sweet talk your way out of this one."

Ah yes… A Queen who wasn't afraid to speak her mind and chastise her King. Not just another ordinary consort who would smile and nod her pretty little head in submission. A Queen who's loyalty and faith was unmatched. A fitting queen, indeed.

_His _queen… He rather liked the sound of that.

She would hate him for it, but he'd pamper her on her coronation day. When the war would be over, and he would inevitably ascend to the throne.

That day would come…

And he would make it happen.

But until then…

"Can't be helped, I suppose."

And so the morning came alive with the sound of clashing steel, as the birds of the air and the hidden animals of the field bore witness to two kindred souls vying for victory.

The march would inevitably resume by midday, according to plan. But for now, they had _this_. And they'd make the most out of it.


	7. The Lioness of Casterly Rock

**A/N: Thank you Akira-Hayama, Lelouch von Einzbern, deletedbyadmin, Freudentarene, woo tanin, duduaoi, and The221 for leaving kind reviews on the previous installment. Thank you for following this irregularly updated story xD Thank you for reading it too. :)**

**Aaaanndd if you...um... want to see me post updates and other (probably) funny shit, visit my new tumblr xD wbad-world. tumblr. com**

**Just remove spaces between the dots because I can't post working links in this thing xD**

**'Til next time~**

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**The Lioness of Casterly Rock**

Dragonstone was famous for its rocky cliffs, reaching for the sky. Amongst the jagged plateaus and strips of rising land stood the famous fortress. The fortress that Lelouch made his home base. The majority of his fleet was sailing for the appointed rendezvous point — an unmarked island away from the borders around Blackwater Bay, just as Lelouch had instructed during their secret correspondence.

Sail the majority of the war fleet to the coordinates, and leave a quarter of the armada at Dragonstone. If all went according to plan, Lelouch's marching army would arrive at the city gates, perhaps to parley. And then the armada would descend upon the city. If they were fortunate enough to be uninterrupted, Suzaku's men would take the Red Keep too.

And then he was asked to leave a small force here…

To protect people he loved. To ensure that no harm came upon them; because it would be too dangerous to bring Princess Nunnally and Princess Euphemia to war.

The Prince of Dorne couldn't agree more.

Beneath the dying rays of the sun, he watched the last of the war sails bearing the sigil of his House disappear over the horizon. His own ship would follow. But not after he'd made this temporary farewell. It was a selfish thing to do. But he hadn't seen her in _years_. And was it a crime to want to see that kind and lovely face again?

"It has been a long time, Suzaku."

He turned away from his view of the ocean to face the woman he'd been wanting to see ever since his war ships first set sail. Lelouch had mentioned in his letters that she would be here, alongside his own sister, Princess Nunnally. For though his best friend never said it, Suzaku knew that it was an offered gift — a clandestine meeting with the woman he'd been in love with since the day he'd met her.

"Yes it has, Euphy." He smiled at her, deliberately using the variation of her royal name that they'd both devised years ago.

Without uttering another word, the Prince reached for his Princess as she fell into his arms and embraced him with all the longing and love she could muster. It hadn't been easy — separated by leagues of oceans, only sending the occasional raven or two to tell the other how much they missed them.

But _gods_, it had been worth it. It was _so _worth it…

vVvVv

They had been on the verge of undressing within their war tent — ready to satiate sexual needs whenever they could — when the blare of the war horn echoed through the camp. Three full blasts.

The signal to ready for battle…

It was an ambush. A legion sent to halt their march and perhaps snuff them out. This, Lelouch gathered as he watched the healers attend to the injured and wounded. The Silent Sisters beside them worked quietly as they piled the dead bodies on wagons. Members of his army, and the enemy's perhaps. It was an ambush declared during the hour of the wolf, and if his own scouts had been less vigilant, the Prince knew his army would have been considerably depleted.

Thank the gods that they'd been on high alert. Roughly two hundred casualties was less than expected, and he was grateful.

And as the early morning sun rose over the horizon, the survivors of the battle were greeted with the grim sight of the dead and the air was full of the moans and cries of suffering men.

Even as the healers attended to them now, it was still disheartening to see men suffer from festering and bleeding wounds. Some were fortunate enough to be brought to haplessly put together tents, and yet others lay sprawled on grass and mud spattered with blood and gore — begging for help, for milk of the poppy. Some begged for death.

Each of these soldiers… They all had family, and friends, and lovers. It was a reality of war. That wasn't lost on him. He'd seen it plenty of times before. And the first time, had been when he was 14 years old.

But it still didn't make it any easier…

Battles made people weary in both body and soul. Wars crushed spirits… It was always just a matter of how good you were at hiding those debilitating emotions.

It was that collected composure he donned now as he strode through the frazzled war camp. A panting messenger hurried to keep up at his heels. Cornelia at his left, quietly listening to a report from Lord Kewell at his right. He'd let his sister handle the communication efforts for now as he stewed in his thoughts and listened. At some point during the walk, they were joined by two more Lords from Highgarden — his grandfather's banner men.

The flaps to his war tent were open. Stable boys and squires rushed within as they prepared a fire in the hearth, set hot refreshments on the small table, and made sure his Highness' weapons and plate of armor were organized. And amid the throng of busy bodies, sitting on one of the chairs, staring at a ruddy and mud-flecked map of the continent, sat CC…

And their honored guest.

Well, his army's savior — to be more accurate.

"Lord Calares' generals are dead, and his army scattered. I suppose we have _you _to thank for that?" The Prince asked by way of greeting.

The three Lords and the Princess with him fell silent as the group filed into the tent to hold a post-battle meeting. The squires and the other servants bowed quickly and left quietly, closing the tent flaps as they went. Only their guest and CC remained; the latter still quietly scrutinizing the rough map of Westeros spread out on her lap.

"I can't possibly take _all _the credit."

Decked in men's heavy armor and fighting leathers from head to toe, with her helmet tucked snugly underneath her left arm, the new member of his campaign rose to her feet with all the grace of a lady trained and raised in court. Her movements, her manners, and her very attire was a far cry from her noble birth.

But Lelouch vi Britannia was glad to see her all the same…

"Ambushed in the middle of the night. If I didn't arrive with my men like I did, is it safe to say your war could have ended before it began?" The newcomer teased, raising an eyebrow in challenge at the Prince.

Lelouch scoffed. He knew she was jesting. She knew him well enough to be sure that security was tight around his camp. It was simply chance.

The Prince gestured for the rest of the lords to find a place and sit down. The men dispersed and helped themselves to the refreshments, but not without curious glances at the headstrong woman among them. Marching past Lelouch, their visitor promptly curtsied (even with the absence of a courtly dress) before his older sister. How courteous of her when it came to his siblings… She never extended the gestures to him ever since the day he'd caught her playing with wooden swords against a straw dummy in the Red Keep.

Nine years ago… She'd been shy at first, but after he had agreed to teach her the basics and she managed to knock him on his behind, she had quickly discarded all formality. Princes could still lose in spars, couldn't they Lelouch?

"How have you been, your Royal Highness?"

"As well as can be expected." Cornelia smiled, eyeing the newcomer curiously as she took silent note of the swords strapped to the weapon's belt. The quiver of arrows slung across her back. "You've transformed into a warrior, Lady Kallen. Does your father approve?"

Kallen snorted with the signature roll of her striking blue eyes. "He will be furious when he returns from his travels to Valyria."

Amused, Cornelia shook her had as she led Lady Stadtfeld to the table the squires had graciously prepared. "Nevertheless, I am grateful to have you aiding us."

"It's the least I could do. And about time too."

About time she returned the favor she owed Lelouch. As for the Emperor, that man had abused this land far too many times as it was… Lelouch's rebellion may have gathered split opinions from the nobles and the common people, but not to Kallen.

Between the Emperor and the Kingdom's Chief Military Adviser, she'd wholeheartedly pick the latter.

vVvVv

When it came to war meetings, Kallen Stadtfeld had no proper sense of time. She hadn't been in many, but for the few she had attended before (that had similar agendas), she always prided herself for paying attention to details. To the actual maneuvers. What to do, where to station some troops, who would take charge of which company, and the like.

For the past two hours or so, she, Lelouch, and the others had moved on from discussing casualties and post-battle review to figuring out their next plan of attack. Adjustments were needed in Lelouch's initial plans, now that his Father and his brothers were obviously taking measures to stop him from completing his march to King's Landing.

And yet, in spite of this meeting's obvious importance, Kallen couldn't stop herself from closely but discreetly observing who the others had called, Lelouch's "Right Hand." If she'd seen the woman before during her brief visits to the Red Keep, Kallen couldn't remember. As far as she was always aware, Lelouch had attended courtly meetings alone. And now he had her…

A paramour, perhaps?

No, she couldn't _just _be a paramour. Lelouch would never bother… So this CC had to have _some _value to his strategic plans. Maybe she was like his 'captain of the guard.' But if that was the case, then shouldn't she be outside of his tent, guarding him? It wasn't very clear to the others what this CC was to their Prince either.

What his men lacked in facts, they made up for with creative rumors that ranged from innocent to scandalous. Kallen was inclined to believe that the truth was _somewhere in the middle_.

It didn't take long for the Lioness of the Rock to figure this out however…

The answer to her own questions came in the evening, when their men were busy recuperating. And the army was awash with the groans of the injured and the songs of the traveling bairds. Men told stories and poured warming cups of cheap wine as Kallen sat amongst them.

Through the hazy view of smoke rising from their meager fire, she discreetly watched as the Prince led the same woman out of his tent. With little deliberation and without hesitation, the truth dawned bright and clear as Prince Lelouch lowered his head and stole a kiss from the peculiar woman's lips.


	8. The Lord at the Twins

**A/N: Thank you Darth Lelouch, Akira-Hayama, wintergables, woo tanin, and my Guest reviewer for leaving reviews on my previous installment. And Darth Lelouch, thanks for the recommendation of a fanfic in the GoT fandom with Lelouch and C.C. in it. I must admit, it's a very **_**intriguing **_**read. **

**To everyone who's following and added this to their favorites, please receive my gratitude :) **

**About dragons… For now, I don't know if I can include dragons. As you have already noticed, there's no mention of the Wall, the Wildlings, or the Dothraki either. I don't see where any of them would fit. Truth be told, this story has **_**very little **_**planning. This started as a one-shot. And each new 'chapter' I add is **_**just **_**a one-shot. That's why not everything is concrete. **

**Honestly, this is just a CLuCLu love story slapped with a GoT label XD War is the subplot. This is romance all the way. XD It's the reason why I highlight Lelouch and C.C.'s relationship as much as I can. But thank you for these suggestions nevertheless.**

**And when this is over, perhaps I'll try writing another GoT-themed AU where Lelouch and C.C.'s roles are different xD Lelouch or C.C. riding a dragon is so damn appealing. XD I want it.**

**Happy reading :)**

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**The Lord at the Twins**

The North was famous for its chilliness and the ever present Heart trees in every fortress. With varying expressions on their faces, they stared at men, women, and children who passed by — completely oblivious to the blood red eyes carved into snow white wood.

It was one such tree that Kanon Maldini passively glanced at outside the narrow window as he sat with the North's most influential lords. Prince Schneizel sat regally at the head of the long table, hands clasped into steeples and intently listening to what the lords and the generals had to say about the Prince who raised his banner of rebellion against the throne.

"We could disguise our men as part of his troops. Perhaps even join his rebellion against the throne. After he succeeds, we can arrange for his assassination." General Fayer — a respected and seasoned military man suggested as he refolded the tiny and wrinkled parchment between his fingers.

One of the lords nodded in agreement. "And hire a Faceless Man of Braavos to do it."

It wasn't a horrible suggestion, but it was off… And Kanon ought to let him know.

"So if I am not mistaken, General Fayer, you are putting forward the notion that Lelouch _will win_ against the Emperor at the Red Keep. What happens if he loses? Our forces would be sufficiently depleted, even if we were to _pretend _to fight alongside him. And for the plan to work, our acting must be thorough."

He didn't trust an entire army to hold up a farce. To be fair, the majority were grunts. They do what they're told, but not to the best of their capabilities a lot of the time. Pushing through with simply jeopardize the agenda.

"The Prince is… rather sharp." Kanon added upon seeing General Fayer's soured expression.

"Well, I—"

"A sound plan, General." Prince Schneizel interrupted. "It is rather _brilliant _maneuvering, if I say so myself. And you thought of it quicker than I could."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Prince Schneizel el Britannia, ever the charmer. The second prince always knew what to say and how to act, turning even the most awkward of situations into something less uncomfortable. Now, whether the rest of the gathered men were aware of this, Kanon couldn't say for sure. Nevertheless, General Fayer had somewhat of a shy smile plastered on his face… Far from genuine, but it was the best one could come up with after having his "brilliant plans" shot down.

"But alas, I am afraid Lord Maldini is correct in his implications. As cunning as your plan is, we can't implement it. It is a move Lelouch will see through." Schneizel paused. It was lengthy enough that it prompted a question from one of the military men present. Would an 18-year old _boy _really see through their ruse?

"He and I have done it before." The Prince spoke somberly, offering his explanation. "When I joined him in intercepting the battle of the two kings at the Iron Islands. Needless to say it worked effectively, but not without its own consequences. And he was but a child then. Barely fifteen…"

"Your Highness, if I may, are you intending to simply hold the North and let King's Landing defend itself?"

"I wouldn't let such a terrible fate befall my people in the capital. We will stamp out his rebellion as he's marching."

The words seemed to have lit a fire in the eyes of the men who were present. As each one began to pledge numbers to the cause.

"We can arrange an army today, to march and intercept the rebel before he arrives at King's Landing."

"He's well on his way to the Crossing now… After he smote Calares' army in the Riverlands."

"Casterly Rock sides with him."

A scoff. "Lord Stadtfeld's daughter does _not _hold full command of her father's armies. Only a faction."

"The men who marched with her are 30,000 strong. Stadtfeld is too rich for his own good. Can't even keep a proper eye on his daughter who fancies playing soldier."

"It's not enough to conquer King's Landing. The capital has _more_."

"War is not just a game of numbers…"

"My lords, _please_." Schneizel placated, gesturing for the cupbearer at the door to come forward and fill the empty wine cups. "Let us not be quick to raise our swords and jump into killing fields like barbarians."

"What are you planning, Prince Schneizel?" Kanon asked mildly, having listened to the other men ramble on and on about the statistics.

The secretive smile that graced Prince Schneizel's face was enough to silence the table. None had to wait long for the word of the second Prince, however; as he, Schneizel el Britannia — the most gifted of the Emperor's offspring, carefully and quietly laid out the plans.

Kanon Maldini hung onto every word. And with each new revelation presented to him and the rest of their bewildered companions, the young lord could easily see _why _this _man _(this force of malevolent nature) was deserving of the homage his most loyal followers gave him.

For it was a brilliant strategy… A masterful plan.

After all, who said brute force was the only way to win a war?

The stroke of a pen was just as mighty as the swinging sword.

vVvVv

CC didn't go on very many scouting missions or patrols. But every time she did, there were always ominous news to report. Was it too much to ask for a scouting mission with favorable results? Preferably one that was absent of the horrors of an impending ambush.

Perhaps that was asking too much from a god who only took lives…

"What's left of Calares' men have regrouped and called for reinforcements." Was her simple report after her horse cleared the wall of horsemen and foot soldiers that loitered at the edges of the forest. "Scouts report movement on our trails."

Lelouch was there. Surrounded by important men and women. All nobles. His sister stood at his left, Kallen near his right. The other lords of Highgarden formed a semi-circle, while guards and other men kept watch. As if standing at attention would be enough to ward off enemy fire if Lord Farnese saw it fit to be rid of them all. How fortunate they were that only messenger ravens kept leaving the Twin Towers. Granted, they would have to be careful to shoot them all down.

But it's a small price to pay for secrecy…

"They intend to chase me down to the South? Perhaps crush me against the capital walls?" His tone was arrogant, but his face was just the opposite.

CC wasn't sure if the others could read it. But the frustration and the pressure to need to make solid decisions _now _were weighing on him. As much as she would have gladly taken the pressure off of him, she knew it was impossible. All she could do was offer her support. Counsel and comfort him whenever he needed.

"You cannot take this lightly." Cornelia was annoyed, and she looked at her brother reproachfully.

Lord Smilas, one of Lord Lamperouge's banner men, winced as he reiterated a report some messenger probably brought him. "25,000 men from the reserve force camped out near the Gods' Eye, Your Highnesses."

Kallen stood casually to the side, a crossbow held in one hand while the other rested at her hip. All this discussion about how to cross a damn river. She couldn't blame them. They would have braved the waters no problem, or took the time to build rafts if there wasn't a fighting army coming for them, and if Lord Farnese and his spawn weren't cowering in a stacked dump they called a _glorious _Tower.

Sparing the troubled Prince a glance, the Lioness of the Rock spoke. "We have 34,000. Roughly. If it comes down to it, we can take them."

"And yet we won with that number when they had over fifty. Numbers aren't always a guarantee."

"But they don't have the element of surprise on their side, like _we_ did."

CC's logic and Kallen's insistent arguments. As much as Lelouch _adored _one and respected the other, he didn't have the patience for it…

They had one predicament in front of them at the moment. And one predicament only.

"We need to cross the Trident regardless. And unfortunately, we do not have the luxury of time to hack these trees and make longboats to transport the army."

Turning from her view of the Trident, Cornelia approached her brother with surety in her steps. "House Farnese has been safeguarding the Bridge and the Twin Towers for over five centuries. And Lord Andrea Farnese is not the sort of man to play around with."

"I know. We've shot six messenger ravens from the Twins in half a day."

"What do we do, Lelouch?" Appearing to have realized the desperation of their situation, Kallen looked to their leader, concerned.

Striking bargains with fickle lords wasn't exactly part of the plan. It wasn't even an ideal situation to have. If Kallen had the choice between fighting their way to the first tower to get to the bridge, or negotiating with a sleazy old man, she'd go for the former — no hard and pressing questions necessary.

But she wasn't in-charge of this now, was she?

"We can be stupid and storm the fortress. Or we can bargain." CC commented nonchalantly, twirling a lengthy bit of dark wavy hair around her tan fingers.

Of course, _she _had to stomp on Kallen's ideals. Not that Kallen ever suggested fighting out loud. But it was what she would have preferred. Yes, it was messy. But if they did it right, they'd get the job done. There was the other side of the coin, however… They'd have to pay the price with the lives of the men in this army.

Sometimes, situations called for bloody battles. But there are other times where things can be settled with bargains. Or in this case, by paying the fee to a grouchy old lord who commanded the bridge.

"What choice have we but to bargain?" Lelouch gave a resigned sigh. They could storm his Towers recklessly, and perhaps win. But he'd rather win the old lord's favor and take the man's armies to add to his own. "I'll go."

"No, _I_ will."

"Cornelia—"

"Lord Farnese is a man; tough with pride and unyielding stubbornness. While I have no doubt you can charm many a lady, brother, that charisma will not work with a senile old man."

"But Cornelia—"

Lelouch vi Britannia was just another protective brother. Regardless of what everyone thought. And while it amused Cornelia to no end, an innate part of her still longed to look after him. As if he were no more than the charming rosy-cheeked boy who frolicked in one of the Red Keep's gardens with pleasant little Euphemia. Though they shared different mothers, he was still her baby brother. No matter how large of an army he could command, no matter how far he would venture.

"This will need a courtly approach. Have faith in your older sister, Lelouch." He winced when she patted his shoulder before brushing past him to take the reins of her horse, offered to her by one of the squires. "I'll be going alone. No escorts."

"Your Highness—" Lord Kewell made to protest. Because a Princess must never—

"That was a command."

"Yes, my Lady!"

vVvVv

Farnese was a disgraceful, corrupted, and disgusting old oaf…

But she supposed she wasn't in a position to think — much less say — such things. Because after all, didn't she side with her brother in this rebellion and war against their father? To any lord or lady who didn't give a toss, this war between father and son was laughable. It also left the realm vulnerable to other uprisings. And if another cause should rise and challenge her brother's—

Cornelia li Britannia sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"What do you want?"

The harsh demands didn't come as a surprise… So she boldly told him what her brother required, and what she came here to do.

Scoffing around a throat clogged with phlegm, the old lord shifted in his seat. "Oh spare me. Your _brother _is too proud to come before me himself and tell me what he needs—"

"Father, please do not forget yourself," spoke a graying middle-aged man, "Her royal highness, Princess Cornelia is—"

"_Princess…" _He muttered under his breath with such derision, that Cornelia _nearly _regretted vouching for bargains earlier. "And who asked _you, _boy? You are _no lord yet_, and will not be until I am _dead_. Do I look _dead _to you?!"

"But Father, her Highness is—" Another one spoke, this time to the left.

"I don't need a lesson in courtesy from you, bastard. Your mother would still be a maid in the kennels if I hadn't squirted you into her belly!"

A brief yet awkward silence followed, punctuated only by the shifting of feet and wringing of hands. The 2nd Princess stood as proud as dictated by the blood in her veins. She may be rebelling against the man on the Iron Throne, but she was still a Princess. This disrespectful lord's oaths still bound him to serve her and her House with honor.

"Ah fine," Farnese grumbled as he leaned forward in his grand chair. That is, it would have been considered _grand _years ago. It was nothing more than old and distressed wood now. "You. Come forward."

At the slightly raised eyebrow she sported, the old man grumbled some more and corrected himself while trying to roll his eyes "Your Highness."

She didn't have to, but considering the fact that their army needed to cross his bridge without bloodshed, the Princess approached his meager dais, putting a (thankfully) gloved hand forward. A Princess of her station must not balk nor flinch. And she did not… Even when this fickle lord shakily grasped her hand and sloppily kissed her ring finger — where her signet ring should have been.

How would Farnese act, she wondered, if it had been her little brother to come before him and not her?

"There… Now that I've observed courtesy, perhaps my sons would do me the honor of keeping their traps shut."

Right…

"If we may speak in private."

The command was uncalled for, and she could tell the old lord didn't take kindly to a much younger woman (never mind her being a member of the royal family) ordering his sons and daughters to leave the room. But it looked like Farnese still had a courteous bone left in his body, and didn't utter a complaint. He only subtly glowered at her, and she returned the challenge as men and women filed out of the receiving hall one by one.

The last one to leave was Farnese's latest paramour. Barely a woman, that one. Perhaps no older than Nunnally or Carine. Now whether this girl wanted to be Farnese's latest plaything or no, the Princess still pitied her. She couldn't picture Nunnally or Carine being handed over to such a lecherous old fool, subjected to his whims.

It was the same reason why she chose to ignore Farnese's inappropriate comments about this new girl. Tried to ignore the way the old man licked his lips too.

When the rest of his family had nearly disappeared out the doors, Farnese stood up and picked his way over to the giant hearth housing a fire that made the hall bearable.

"I need to get rid of my sons and daughters." He grumbled. "You see how they pile up?"

_And yet you married another girl to satiate your worldly pleasures…_

Another woman to breed as he saw fit… As if the girl was no more than a broodmare.

"Bah! Not that our glorious Emperor would ever let his sons and daughters marry mine." He scoffed.

Cornelia frowned, and even pretended to sympathize — if only to placate him enough to hear what she had to say. "I'm sure my father had reasons—"

The man snorted, gathering the folds of his coat as he turned his back to the fire and uncouthly began warming his behind. "Fuck your father's reasons." He laughed cruelly. "You're at war with him now, aren't you? You and that half-brother of yours. What's the boy's name?"

"Lelouch vi Britannia, Prince—"

"Ah yes! Lelouch. Strange name for a strange boy." He chuckled gruffly and ignored her affronted stare. "Don't give me that look, Your Highness. I have been eighty for five years. I tend to forget. I have trouble remembering my son's names as it is. Now what do you want?"

"I came to convince you to open your gates, Lord Farnese. So my brother and all his banner men can cross the Trident, and be on their way…"

"Hmph… Now _why _would I do that?"

"If you could climb the battlements, you will see roughly 30,000 men—"

"Eh, nothing but 30,000 corpses when Calares and his men get here. I'm sure you know who has provided reinforcements."

She and Lelouch rarely mentioned it, but they both knew who Calares served loyally under. But who would have thought that Clovis would join in the fray from his post, northeast of the Realm?

"You may be the emperor's daughter, but do you think you can frighten me, Princess? After your brother's open rebellion, your House has been in chaos. You should hear the vile things they say of the Emperor and his kin. All the way from King's Landing to the Riverlands. If I had a lick of proper sense that the gods should have given me, I should hand you over to your other brothers." Unperturbed, Farnese merely pinned the Princess with a steely gaze of his own.

Family trouble… In hindsight, that's all it was. To some people anyway… To the other lords, Lelouch's rebellion was just a boy's petty revenge for executing his mother unjustly. They would never understand what her brother now fought for… What her brother sought to _truly _undermine.

"So why don't you?"

Stormy gray met gloating lavender, taking this headstrong Princess' challenge in stride.

"Britannia, Lamperouge, Stadtfeld, Ashford, Weinberg… Give me one good reason why I should waste a single thought on any of you."

vVvVv

It was nearing mid-afternoon when Kallen managed to persuade her childhood friend to stop pacing — lest he wear his boots out on the uneven ground. They returned to camp shortly after Cornelia set out on her task; but not before Lelouch instructed 500 men to remain close to the river's banks and be on the lookout for his sister's return. The concern shown on his face, but Kallen admired him all the more for putting the needs of the army first. And truth be told, Cornelia would have wanted him to do the same.

The flaps to his tent were left open, and the worn map of Westeros lay forgotten on the table. Pieces that represented the ruling Houses of the continent were scattered across the rivers made of blue lines, some resting atop drawn-in peaks that represented mountains and hills.

"Relax, Lelouch." Rising steadily to her feet, Lelouch stilled his pacing at the sound of armor clinking against barely concealed weaponry. A light and reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Her Highness will be just fine."

The frown on his face only deepened, but he nodded once in agreement, nevertheless. It was pointless to worry. Plus, his pacing wouldn't aid Cornelia whatsoever. He, however,_ needed _to pay attention to the task at hand.

"You're right." With a deep sigh, those proud shoulders sagged slightly. Finding his resolve, the Prince nodded once at the redhead who'd been thoughtful enough to lend him her encouragement. "Thank you, Kallen."

The beginning of a smile tugged at the corner of Kallen's lips. The last few months, their meetings had been brief — only long enough to offer quick pleasantries before they were whisked away by their own lives. He, a Prince with duties. Her, a high Lord's daughter and was forced into "court" training. She hadn't been with him like this in _years_, but it looked like some of the traits and mannerisms that he'd had as a boy still remained.

What more might have changed, and hadn't she wondered… Would she get the chance to learn them all in time?

It was during Kallen's inner tender moments that CC walked in, oblivious to the thoughts floating around Kallen's head. She had a covered basket of food with her. From it, Kallen could smell the red meat and the covered bowls of broth. Whatever was being prepared looked scrumptious.

CC uncovered and left the basket on one of the ottomans just as Prince Lelouch called for her attention and asked her to walk with him.

As expected of her, the tanned woman didn't complain. She simply watched their Prince rise and followed at his heels as they both made to leave the tent. But where were they—

"Where are you going, Lelouch?" The words left her mouth before she had the chance to rein herself in.

"I have matters concerning the army to discuss." Was his clipped answer.

But if it was about the army, then—

"The army? Shouldn't we all hear it then? Maybe I can help. I'm—"

Kallen didn't know whether she should be annoyed or amused when the Prince chuckled and shook his head. "I appreciate it, Kallen. But I believe it's a matter best discussed by two people first. And we'll discuss it further when Cornelia returns."

And just like that, she felt powerless as she stayed rooted to her spot with no one for company but an empty desk covered in Westerosi maps, and the three portions of an afternoon meal that CC had left behind when she'd followed Lelouch out of the tent. With slight disappointment festering at the pit of her stomach, she couldn't stop herself from watching them, even when they had both taken a right and disappeared around the first of the war tents stationed in neat lines.

What did Lelouch's men think of this?

She was sure she wasn't the first one to notice. Truth be told, some would even say she was late to the party. But it was so evident that Lelouch had a favorite.

_Of course_, it would make sense that CC was the favorite…

That kiss she'd seen once was enough to confirm one rumor. They were sleeping together.

But apart from advisor, what other role did CC occupy?

She wasn't a Captain of his personal guard. Not a messenger either. And for all this talk about the woman being skilled at fighting, not a lick of skill had she witnessed. Maybe it wasn't so far-fetched to say that she, Kallen, had far more practice and prowess against the Prince's woman.

Maybe…

She didn't _really know_. But Kallen liked to think so.

She _did _start her first lessons with the weapons' master at Casterly Rock when she was only nine years old. That was a very early start for women. The natural gifts and the constant practice made her into the warrior lady she was today, and she was proud of it. _Forget _her father's disappointment and nagging about how it was "unlady-like."

Perhaps it was time to invite CC to a friendly spar…

vVvVv

"_You were a virgin when we first did it, weren't you?"_

_He tried his best to ignore her. He _truly _did…_

_Circe had a habit of prying embarrassing secrets out of him, and reminding him of said embarrassing secret whenever she found it convenient. Not that this was any worse compared to the ones he'd disclosed in her presence before. Yes, he had never bedded a woman before he'd met her. He didn't see the big deal…_

"_I don't see the issue when you seem to enjoy being with me so often after that _first time_."_

_From his lavish bed, CC smiled, half of her face buried in one of the discarded pillows. A bullion eye glittering with mischief under the light of several candles followed his every move as he made his way back to bed with two cups of fine wine — freshly poured._

_She accepted the gleaming cup and took a sip of the wine only ever present in noble houses. Nothing less than the best for the most powerful House in the Realm. The duvet covering her chest slipped off, revealing full breasts and the tell-tale scar under the left one. She finished her drink in one long swig before leaving her cup on the nightstand. Abandoning the soft pillows, the faceless woman opted for the warmth of her Prince's body instead._

"_I've known boys who frequented brothels at fourteen." CC murmured into his bare shoulder, fingers drawing strange patterns across his chest._

"_None of those boys were of noble birth." The Prince muttered sulkily, finishing his own beverage before setting the empty cup aside._

"_You would be surprised of how nobility and their defining traits are so starkly different across the Narrow Sea. You can count yourself lucky that your brothers weren't the sort to think that women would make great gifts for a boy's 14__th__ name-day."_

_Snorting, Lelouch thought of how prim and proper the rest of his family were. Not hellbent on pleasures of the flesh so much as being hellbent on glory, gold, and conquest._

_Well, maybe except his father… He, who sired many Princes and Princesses with various Consorts. His mother included._

_Fair enough. He had nothing to say, and wanted to let it go. But while they were on the subject, he wanted to get something out of this too. "How many men have _you _slept with?"_

_Circe didn't answer for a long while. Just contented herself with running her hands over his torso as she appeared lost in thought. His own fingers tangled in her tousled green hair, while he watched her face, trying to note of the subtlest shifts in facial expression. Perhaps he shouldn't have been hasty about asking such a personal question. He may know her childhood story now, but he shouldn't ask for things she might not be comfortable with._

_He was very nearly on the verge of retracting his question — much like he did when he asked for one of her secrets only a couple of nights ago, when she gave him an answer._

"_If I say more than fifty?"_

_She wasn't serious, was she?_

_Seeing the incredulous look he gave her, CC couldn't help but laugh. She took her time smoothing a palm over his abdomen, feeling the muscles there shift and tighten as his body responded her to strokes._

"_You're serious?"_

"_No, Lelouch." Resting her chin on his shoulder, she peered at his pretty face shadowed in flickering light and said, "Including you, I've been with two people."_

_A muscle feathered at his jaw and a slight frown made his brows crinkle. "Who was he, this man?"_

"_Are you jealous of someone you will never meet?"_

Yes, yes he was jealous… _Because some _stranger _laid claim to her first. But he knew as well how irrational he was being for feeling this way. He didn't even know she existed before a year ago. So he couldn't have a say on who she allowed into her bed. Now if only she could answer the question so they could move on with this conversation that he'd started when he asked her questions borne out of his insatiable curiosity._

"_No, that would be irrational…"_

"_Correct. But you still are." At the accusation, he immediately sought out her face and saw that grin laced with mirth. "You're a very bad liar in bed, Lelouch. Did you know that? You lie horribly after sex."_

_Giggling as he rolled his eyes, she simply nestled closer — abandoning more space in his bed that could fit four people side-by-side. She should really give him a straight answer now — lest she annoy him further than she already did. She had no reason to lie to him anyway, and she never told him, but she rather liked that he knew everything there was to know about her._

"_He wasn't even a man." She murmured, adopting a more somber tone. "Just a boy… An acolyte in the House of Black and White."_

"_The Order doesn't prohibit sexual relations?"_

"_They were never really clear with that part. It's somewhere in the gray, I soon realized. Nevertheless, after my first time, I didn't see what the fuss was all about. It was barely sensual."_

_At the sight of the smug smirk creeping across his mouth, she swatted his shoulder lightly before her lips latched on to the pulse at his neck. His body shifted just so his own hands could start mapping out the rest of her again._

_She needn't say more after that. The words alone implied so much about what her first time had been like. Not sensual. Perhaps it was methodical then… Clumsy, for sure. And knowing that her first _real _experience of sensual gratification was with him made the Prince inwardly preen._

_And so it was with much gusto that her Prince capsized her over to the other side of the bed, finding his place inside her for the third time tonight. Listening to the music of her body as she voiced her ecstasy and called out for him with each thrust. With every touch and sweet kiss._

_At the end, it was her radiant smile he saw and her quiet voice he heard as she hummed an unfamiliar song…_

_Carrying them both on the wings of pleasant dreams as the Prince and the assassin basked in the afterglow of a budding love together._

* * *

**A/N: My favorite one-shot and favorite flashback of all… So far XD See you in the next ;)**


	9. Everything Demands a Price

**A/N: Sheesh. XD I find myself constantly rechecking my descriptions of C.C. when I write these. **

**Sometimes it's easy to forget that only Lelouch knows and has **_**seen **_**C.C.'s real face. Whenever they're in public, C.C. wears the face she wore when she was first introduced to the majority of the people in Charles' court. I can't count the number of times I've slipped up and had to change adjectives during the proof reading. Haha! XD If you find some, do let me know ;)**

**And this question: Is this going to turn into CC x Lelouch x Kallen? **

**Answer: I'm not sure if that means a love triangle thing or a harem thing? If it's a harem thing, I would have to say 'no.' Because LelouchC.C. all the way XD.**

**Also, thank you so much ThatDesGuy, Akira-Hayama, Darth Lelouch, wootanin, Freudentraene, Celline The Sleeping Beauty, Command Unit, and wintergables for leaving reviews.**

**Thank you so much everyone for each follow and for each favorite. But above all, thank you for reading :)**

* * *

**Everything Demands a Price**

_Her son had always proved himself to be interesting… A socially assigned trait looked on poorly by the other consorts._

_She'd often received flack and backlash from the other consorts for it. As if _she _was to blame for her son's unsavory yet interesting traits. Not that it really affected anything grand. The other Consorts were simply overreacting — as usual. They watched and whispered to no end — a likely result of being idle and not having much to do except hold Court and entertain themselves with music, jesters, or gossiping. Sometimes all three._

_Marianne _loathed _to stay in the same hall as them for more than a few seconds. One way or another, one of the mothers would lecture her about leaving her son be to gallivant wherever he wished without so much as an entourage._

_Why couldn't he stick to royal protocol like Odysseus or Schneizel? Why couldn't he favor more peaceful pass times like Clovis? Why did this young Prince always sully himself, mingling with the piss-poor residents at Flea Bottom and such? Gallivanting away from the Kingsroad to speak to who-knows-who as if he were no more than a common soldier._

_Such were the other consorts' concerns._

_Although, Marianne _did _find it peculiar that they paid so much attention to _her _son, rather than their own._

_Half of it could be blamed on Lelouch's own doing. The other half could simply be attributed to the fact that no one at the capital knew how to mind their own business._

_A nest teeming with vipers, wasps, and twittering birds… So vastly different from her home at Highgarden._

_If she had her way, she would have preferred to raise both Lelouch and Nunnally in her childhood home. But as much as Lord and Lady Lamperouge doted on their only daughter, they too had succumbed to House Britannia's insistence on keeping all the heirs within the Red Keep._

_It sealed her children's fate. Nunnally was subjected to the veiled hostility of the Court, and to various marriage proposals (just like her other sisters). While her son — her _boy_… Lelouch ventured out into his first diplomatic and military campaign after his 14__th__ name-day._

_From the moment she'd first held her children in her arms (as babes wrapped in swaddling clothes), Marianne had known that days like this would come._

_True enough, she'd have preferred her son to take up far safer duties. But after his succeeding campaigns since that first one, it was easy to see that her little Prince excelled at what he did. Far too well for his own good. So much so that his father stopped considering Lelouch's safety, in lieu of sending the Realm's best strategist and Military Overseer to command armies numbering to hundreds of legions._

_Why, just the day before, her son had returned from yet another diplomatic visit to his father's Warden in the East. Twas a peculiar visit, and one she wanted to discuss with him._

_Which was why she traveled up many staircases and crossed many hallways, to get to her son's bedchambers. Her own royal guards walking several feet behind, tailing her for protection's sake._

_Stopping before the door that led to her son's quarters, the Empress Consort couldn't stop herself from sighing. Ever since her Prince had returned with that foreign woman (CC, Lelouch had called her) among his usual guard's ranks, she'd noticed how he'd foregone security at his door. He didn't bother posting guards there anymore, and it used to bother her. (For what was she, but a mother that simply wanted to protect her child?)_

_But after a year of careful observation and some deduction, she now knew why he didn't bother anymore._

_Nevertheless, it was still slightly concerning. A little more precaution never hurt anyone._

_It wasn't Lelouch who'd opened one of the doors after three knocks. A familiar face greeted her, but it wasn't her son's. Still…_

"_Pleasant afternoon, Your Grace." The door opened wider, followed by a neat curtsy._

_Eyeing her attire for a subtle and brief moment, the Empress Consort made a mental note of how interesting it was to see CC in a lovely gown. The woman never appeared in Court by her son's side dressed in such lady-like finery. She always wore fighting leathers that showed her weapons. So it had puzzled her immensely the first time she had glimpsed CC in a gown._

"_I take this to mean my son has pressing duties to attend to."_

"_Yes, Your Grace. His Highness was called to attend a small council meeting, not a full hour ago."_

"_I see." Briefly turning to her guards, she gestured for them to take up posts outside the door before fully stepping into her son's room, gently closing the heavy door in her wake. "May I speak with you instead, CC?"_

"_As Her Grace commands…"_

_Smiling prettily, the Empress Consort gestured for them to step out onto the balcony, where they might talk without the constriction of walls. CC complied and as soon as they had a whiff of the open air, Marianne chose not to beat around the bush longer and simply jumped straight to her point._

"_They say the Braavosi House of Black and White have an army that could change faces at will. Is it really an army, CC?"_

_From the look on her face, it was easy to deduce that the Empress Consort had expected some sort of averse reaction. Perhaps quiet bewilderment or a loud denial of her ties with her Faceless brethren._

_But Marianne received neither as CC simply smiled and continued to gaze at the view of the royal gardens._

"_It is far from being considered an army, Your Grace." With no reservation whatsoever, intelligent brown eyes met gorgeous indigo. "I was wondering when you would confront me about this."_

"_Oh?" Marianne raised an eyebrow, hands folded primly above the skirts of her gown as she claimed a seat in one of the chairs. "You knew of my knowledge?"_

"_I suspected."_

"_As did I…" About her involvement with the Faceless Order, was the unsaid statement._

_And they had just both confirmed each other's suspicions… The faceless woman could see now where her Prince inherited his shrewdness and his knack for prying the truth out of people in such charming ways._

"_Touché."_

"_Indeed." Marianne let an amused smile grace her face. Her son certainly knew how to pick a gifted yet peculiar woman, didn't he? And oh, how he dressed her so prettily in the privacy of his chambers. But how could he not? CC had an alluring womanly figure and a pretty face (or should she say 'mask'?)_

_For sure, the real face must be far prettier. A part of her _just knew it_._

_She suspected CC was also the reason why Lelouch never bothered with guards at the door anymore. As some said, "one faceless man was worth ten others." Now whether that particular claim was true, they had yet to find out._

"_Tell me, CC. How did a faceless woman admit herself into the service of my son?"_

"_It is quite a long tale, Your Grace." Especially since the first meeting had happened nearly a year ago._

_The Empress waved a dismissive hand. "We have time. I'm sure Lelouch is still holed up in those dreadfully dull small council meetings. What better way to pass the time than to hear an interesting recounting? Besides, I also want to hear how well this romance has worked for the two of you."_

_In spite of herself, a light dusting of pink bloomed across CC's cheeks. From past and brief encounters (and also from Lelouch's own stories), CC was well-aware of how perceptive Empress Consort Marianne Lamperouge was. She'd just never imagined that a day would come when she, CC, would have to indulge the persuasive Empress' requests._

_And CC wouldn't lie to her… Not about _this_, at least. Lelouch would have told his mother the truth anyway, no matter how miffed he would feel. How fortunate for him that he wasn't here now._

"_Romance might be an odd way to put it."_

"_He _is _involved with you in some manner, isn't he? Otherwise, he wouldn't even consider sharing a bed with you, much less let you stay in his room while he's absent. I'm sure my son can lie to me about instructing you to guard his chambers, but if that were the case, I believe he would have insisted in more protective attire rather than the lavish gown. It _does _look rather fetching on you, CC." The Empress Consort's smile was charming — disarmingly so._

_Smirking, CC took the seat across from the monarch, refusing to speak of the smutty promises Lelouch had murmured into her ear just before he left for this wretched meeting._

"_I always told him he was incapable of lying to Your Grace or to Princess Nunnally." CC commented in a bid to forget how the Prince had insisted on her donning the gown earlier so they could both watch him slip it off of her when he returned._

"_Of course not. I _am _his mother. Some may even say I know him better than he knows himself."_

"_Your Grace, if I may. You have given no objections so far about this…affair."_

_Affair… Interesting choice of words. "I _do _hate telling my children what to do. I will advise and offer good counsel. But I let Lelouch and Nunnally exercise their own free-will. They are both burdened by the weight of their father's name already. Best let them have control of their own lives where they can."_

_Marianne straightened in her seat and leaned forward the tiniest bit — not unlike a teenager eager to hear the world's most scandalous love story._

"_Now, I believe an interesting story is in order."_

_And so CC revealed it all… From when she first met the Empress' son, up to the moment the Prince had stolen a kiss from her that night long ago, as they stood together atop the battlements that overlooked Blackwater Bay._

vVvVv

Neither Lelouch nor CC spoke of the alluded meeting when they returned from wherever they had gone off to. It didn't take as long as Kallen anticipated. Moreover, Cornelia hadn't returned yet, and that familiar crinkle between Lelouch's brows was becoming more prominent again.

Whatever they had discussed served little to alleviate the Prince's concern, obviously. And as much as Kallen longed to pry important answers out of him, she knew he was as tight-lipped as people like him could get. He wouldn't breathe a word if he didn't want to, so Kallen made what she perceived to be the wiser choice and left the matter alone for the time-being.

But if there was one thing that shouldn't have to wait, it would be her score with CC…

"CC, have you ever participated in tourneys?" Firm in her personal resolve, the lioness fixed stormy blue eyes on the Prince's companion.

Popping what was left of her share of bread into her mouth, the tanned woman smirked at the redhead, whose mouth was set in a firm line. "A fancy game for fancy people. No I haven't. But I assume _you _have."

"Thrice, unfortunately. She would have wanted more, but a lady participating in such events is frowned upon, isn't it, Kallen?" Chuckling into the rim of his cup, the Prince reclined against the pillows, watching his childhood friend stew in her irritation. She was always quite popular for her fiery attitude — a trait he and Suzaku found quite amusing and endearing.

"What you fail to mention, _Your Highness_, is that I've unseated you _twice_." Kallen scoffed.

The mirth in CC's tawny eyes tripled. "And why am I _not _surprised?"

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" He sputtered indignantly, thoroughly affronted at the verbal barb his lover sent his way.

"You have yet to knock _me _to the ground, Lelouch…"

And there was the opening Kallen didn't know she needed. By CC's words, was it safe to presume they _trained together?_

"Sword training?" The redhead asked, genuinely curious. And at the Prince's begrudging nod, Kallen zeroed in on CC. "You favor the sword?"

She received a disinterested shrug from the Prince's paramour. "Not particularly. I'm sure you know Lelouch _favors _the sword, and since I train with him, it's the same weapon I use as well."

"Would you care for a training spar with _me _then? I've been slacking off on my own training for close to a week now."

CC drained her cup of water before answering. "Is that wise? We have yet to hear news of Princess Cornelia's visit to Lord Farnese."

"Cornelia's bargaining will take a while. And it's not a bad idea." Lelouch offered, glancing between the two women. Because if he was being honest to himself, he wanted to see them pitted against each other.

Kallen's talent and prowess with the sword was not a secret. Word of her skill stretched from Casterly Rock all the way to King's Landing. It was why she was invited to fight in his father's tourneys in the first place. The first time around, men and women at court thought it amusing, and would have _loved _to see her fail. But she had nabbed second place during that first jousting tournament. Only Suzaku of Dorne had defeated her.

She also fought at the front lines in their last battle, leading 30,000 men to charge and defeat Calares' forces. And she came out of it unscathed and covered in battle gore. Yes, Kallen Stadtfeld was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. But it was to be expected — especially after training under the best Master of Arms in the Seven Kingdoms.

So to pit her against CC — a faceless woman and an elite assassin.

It would be interesting… Plus, it wasn't as if the women were objecting to the idea. In fact, dare he assume based on Kallen's and CC's body language, it looked like they were both raring for a fight.

"As you wish, Lady Stadtfeld. I'll train with you…"

vVvVv

They marched off to a small woodland clearing not far from camp. Amid the prevailing odor of decaying leaves and all manner of forest floor debris, the lioness of Casterly Rock and the faceless woman stood face-to-face. They had agreed. Any weapon can be used. Simulate a real one-on-one fight.

Whoever was first to draw blood would win…

They were conditions that made Kallen's squire pale considerably. CC half-expected Lelouch to object to such dire requirements, but the Prince merely stood to the side, his face set in a grim yet severe expression. They weren't far from the army camp. They could call for aid should accidents happen.

"Are you sure you want to use a sword that small?" Kallen asked. Genuinely concerned and slightly interested in CC's choice of a main weapon. The rapier with its ornately made bell-guard was pretty and lithe, but it looked _too _fragile — breakable.

And Kallen wanted a _fair _fight. No _way _was it going to be fair if that weapon would break in two if her own sword came crashing down across the steel.

CC smiled slightly — a very pretty upward turn of her full lips. "Worried I might slip and cut you?"

"Not at all."

Kallen drew her sword and it whined as the redhead released it from the finely made scabbard attached around her hips. The weight of the steel and its pommel serving as comfort, the redhead moved into defensive position. CC stood on the opposite side of the ring, her posture deceptively slack — relaxed and almost carefree.

No warning whatsoever, Kallen lunged. If they were going to simulate a real fight, then _this _was how it would start. But CC had been waiting for that first strike, and at the sound of Kallen's boots shifting across the forest floor, she danced out of the way. In the same breath, her arm swung; tapped the steel of Kallen's breastplate and rested the tip of the Braavosi sword ever so lightly against the skin of Kallen's throat.

Muddy brown locked on striking blue as the latter widened in realization. CC held off on drawing first blood… _Big mistake_ that was. The woman should have grabbed her quick victory while she had the chance.

Kallen charged again, and this time CC met the blow, parrying with ease. Both were deflecting effortlessly. Swords clanged as they clashed and whined when they drew apart. The small clearing was filled with their panting breaths and Kallen's battle cries. A contrast to the silence that wrapped around CC. Kallen surged forward again and again, twisting and turning, feinting and slashing. The slim blade thrust a hair's breadth away from her cheek just as her own sword nicked the leather of CC's clothing.

In the thick of it all, Lelouch watched quietly beside Kallen's anxious squire. The other boy, not much older than the three of them, looked on with concern in his eyes. He clutched Kallen's shield in his hands, baring witness to the whirlwind of motions happening before them. They moved fast, like trained dancers in one of the Sept's rituals. Watching them like this was testimony to the difference in training that they both received.

Kallen's was fierce, aggressive. Striking true and with pride. Just like a knight. This combined with skill made her lethal. She was well-versed and feinting and withdrawing. And she had no trouble reclaiming lost ground too. But from watching CC as well, it was easy to see that the faceless woman of Braavos had no trouble keeping up.

Circe was holding back though... He knew and he could _tell_. She was as accurate and swift and smooth as usual, but her own movements lacked the brutality that the Prince had seen her demonstrate during a trial by combat in the Red Keep over several months ago. He knew his lover was capable of ending a fight in less than a minute. That much was also true when her blade had come close to Kallen's throat a while ago. CC had refused the quick victory and chose to prolong this spar with Kallen instead.

CC managed to avoid a well-aimed blow to the face, but instantly missed Kallen's elbow shooting out to knock her stomach. A small gasp left her as CC landed on her back atop the bed of leaves, the rapier flying out of her hand. Kallen's sword came close to drawing blood on her own throat, but the efforts were thwarted as CC jerked her neck away from the blade. Kallen only caught the barest motion of CC flicking her wrist, and in the same second witnessed the blur of a hunting knife as it sailed through the air and presumably lodged itself against a tree.

That brief distraction was all CC needed to climb to her feet, knock the other woman to the ground, and press a dagger to her bare throat.

A thin trickle of blood poured out of the small puncture at Kallen's throat, seeping into the layers she wore underneath her steel. The redhead took notice just as CC herself made note of the slight bite of a blade's edge on the side of her neck, and the thin stream of red that followed right after.

No life-threatening wounds. But it was just enough pressure to break the surface of skin and draw the blood that signaled victory. Only—

"Shall we call it a draw?" Kallen uttered, her chest heaving as she drew shallow breaths.

"Indeed." CC agreed and rose to her feet with practiced grace. Kallen followed after, sheathing the sword at her hip.

"Your Highness…"

All four turned to the source of the voice that had interrupted any of them before they could speak. Kneeling at the entrance to the small clearing was Lelouch's messenger.

"Her Highness, Princess Cornelia has returned…"

vVvVv

Her Highness, Princess Cornelia of House Britannia had indeed returned… But not alone. Apart from the guard unit that Lelouch had assigned to escort her, there were five others — and none of them were from his own army. Not that he could recall. Two middle-aged men, and three guards wrapped in steel from head to toe.

The two men presented themselves as sons of Lord Andrea Farnese — sons who'd come to deliver the will and the terms of their lordly father.

Safe in the privacy of his tent, Lelouch stood at the head of the war table. The lords of the Reach were present, and so was Kallen. CC stood to his right, face stoic yet expectant. None of them knew what to make of the visit, especially after seeing Cornelia's own grim expression.

"If we may speak, Your Highnesses?" Said the elder son, and at the subtle nod, continued. "My father, Lord Farnese has granted your Crossing. And the men of House Farnese are yours as well, except for the 500 that will stay behind to guard the Crossing against anyone who would dare trespass."

Like a rippling stream, sighs of relief were released. Each of the lords and Kallen smiling quietly to themselves. Of course, the old Lord granted the request. It was made by none other than Princess Cornelia. Such tension had no place after an immense favor had been granted. Had they been more observant, perhaps they would have noticed the grim expressions on the Britannia sibling's faces.

"And what does Lord Farnese want in return?" Somehow, some part of him already knew what kind of conditions would be imposed. Nevertheless, the Prince dared to hope it wouldn't cost him such a heavy price.

"Princess Cornelia will be admitting my sister, Lady Mia as one of her ladies-in-waiting. And Your Highness will be taking on our younger brother, Edmund as your personal squire."

"And in time, the boy shall become a knight."

"Fine with me. What else?" There were other things the pair wasn't mentioning yet, and the Prince would rather hear them all now than procrastinate until later.

"Her Highness, Princess Euphemia will marry our brother, Walder, when he comes of age."

Doing his best to veil his surprise, Lelouch's curious gaze wandered over to assess Cornelia's reaction. His sister must have known beforehand, so her reaction now was more subdued. But underneath the carefully constructed mask, he could see her true feelings flickering in and out of existence. She _loathed _the idea of giving up Euphy's hand in marriage to a stranger. They weren't supposed to drag their younger siblings into this, but after what they'd done today, Lelouch had the sick feeling that they already had — in spite of his and Cornelia's best efforts to keep Euphemia and Nunnally away from the war. Somehow its tendrils still crept out and ensnared them unwittingly.

If Euphemia knew, she wouldn't like it either. Not when she had Suzaku… Not when he knew his best friend loved his half-sister so much, and especially _not _when a matrimonial union between the two was in the near-future.

Idly, Lelouch wondered how strong Farnese' arguments were to leave Cornelia with no other choice but to consent to this.

"And when the fighting is done, Your Highness Prince Lelouch, will marry my sister, Lady Shirley Fenette-Farnese."

It barely registered when their visitor had finished speaking. He was sure Cornelia spoke up at some point… Kallen interjected and some other lord asked a question too. But he couldn't focus on any of it. Not when it suddenly felt like he was listening to the words behind a wall of water… Not when the chains of unwanted matrimony was slowly becoming a reality.

He had suspected… He _figured _long ago that _this _was a considerable possibility.

Yet in his stubbornness, he had refused outright. He refused to listen to the logical voice inside his head. He'd _snuffed _it out in favor of something else — something much more personal.

At this point, he knew his face betrayed him and his feelings.

He must have looked so perplexed. Enough for one of Lord Farnese's sons to ask if their choice of a bride was unsatisfactory to him in any way. He could choose from any of their sisters, they said.

_No! No no no no no _no!

He already _had a _queen! He had _chosen _his future bride a whole year ago, as they stood together atop a battlement that overlooked Blackwater Bay. And it wasn't too long ago when he promised he would do everything in his power to keep her by his side — so they could be together openly when the war was over.

"I—"

Cornelia's gaze bore heavily upon him. And so did the other lords. Kallen watched him closely. Through it all, he dared to glance at the woman to his right — at the woman he adored and loved so much.

"His Highness would be honored. He shall take Lady Shirley's hand in marriage when the war is over."

_CC… _How and _why _would she say such a thing?

"And you represent His Highness' decisions?" One of the lord's sons asked skeptically.

Lelouch listened to it all with a dull roaring in his ears. He watched helplessly as Circe stepped up beside him, and with a face void of any expression, passed the verdict that sentenced their romance to the scaffold to stand before cruel Fate and her unfair jury.

"I am his adviser. The terms are in our best interests, and it couldn't have been fairer."

_Lies_. What a bold-faced _lie!_

It was far from fair!

But the word was given and the sons had left.

And the Prince stood with the rest of his retinue, bewildered and furious as the noose around his neck tightened all the more.

* * *

**A/N: I smell a horrible lovers' spat in the next installment…**


	10. The Will of the Gods

**A/N: This length… Didn't expect it. Because **_**this **_**was supposed to be a flashback set at the beginning of the installment with the lovers' spat. It got too prose-happy, and I realized too late that the supposed flashback was bordering on 8.5k+ words. **

**So I said 'Fuck it.' The details and word count itself deemed it worthy enough to receive an installment all its own. But since it's a flashback, I guess you can say it's an interlude(?). I dunno.**

**Thank you Freudentraene, Akira-Hayama, Euryphaessa Gray, The221, Admiral T. DeVanto, wootanin, and Celline The Sleeping Beauty for leaving their thoughts on the previous installment. Thank you for each new favorite and new follow, you guys. I really appreciate it. And I know how frustrating that last one was. But you need not worry too much. I promise you.**

**Whatever tears Lelouch and C.C. apart won't really last. Because I'm a biased CLuCLu shipper, so they'll always find their way back to each other ;) I **_**may **_**write some heavy and angsty stuff in the future (or I may have one already on the works), but I don't think this will be one of them.**

**The lovers' quarrel, I'll put up as soon as I finish writing that. It's coming next I swear. For now, I hope this one-shot (with violence & fluffy romance combined) would tide a shipper's heart.**

**Happy reading ;)**

* * *

**The Will of the Gods**

_7 months before Lelouch vi Britannia's Rebellion…_

_Absurd. Preposterous… Ludicrous. Abominable. Wretched. Abhorrent…_

He was in the midst of running through the worst adjectives he could find in his vocabulary, and he was quickly running out of words to describe this _sham _of a trial. The world they lived in was an unjust place, he knew that from the beginning. But to _accuse _a woman of murder when her actions were _clearly _done in self-defense was just—

The Prince resisted the urge to draw his own sword and put it through the accuser's heart. Obviously, the Crown was more interested in protecting its interests shared with the great nobles of Westeros. It cared little for justice and for defending the weak. Although, Lelouch vi Britannia could _hardly _call the accused 'weak.'

She was far from it, his faceless woman…

Circe Caraverre of Braavos stood in trial, accused of the murder of Lord Upson's son and heir, along with four of his friends. The lecherous and depraved fools who so much as _dared _to lay a hand on her — try to _rape _her — as she navigated through the busy streets of King's Landing near nightfall.

When news of the incident broke, upstart Upson demanded a trial. And because the Lord and his resources were assets to the Crown, how could his father refuse? And Odysseus had the _gall _to beg the gods for justice and _punish the accused?_

If anyone was more deserving of an execution, it was Upson's own _dead _son. Twice killed would be good for him.

The Emperor's court was a nest of vipers and every poisonous creature imaginable. Small surprise that most of his father's peers detested him, and thought this trial was a worthy sort of revenge for all the times he had opposed one suggestion to favor the next in a Council meeting. They would strip him of his lady-soldier — his paramour, they said. This unworthy foreigner serving a Prince of the Empire.

Maybe then the _little Prince _would know his place…

But as he watched this trial unfold, and caught CC's alert yet dreadfully bored gaze drifting across the room, Lelouch could do little to stop himself from being smug. Oh, how they severely underestimated her.

Upson's party of witnesses had each stepped up to the stand and had given their account. And to testify CC's innocence were Lelouch's own men, and a blacksmith from Flea Bottom who had been a first account witness to the assault and the sexual harassment of CC. (Lelouch, himself, would have wanted to vouch for CC's innocence, but his mother cautioned against it. Instead, she entreated him to choose CC's line of witnesses carefully.)

And in spite of it all, the grand hall filled with noblemen and women clucked and heckled, and some protested the honest claims of a peasant from the lowliest district of the Capital.

Justice was a foreign word in _this _Court.

"How could they accuse her of something as heavy as murder when Lord Upson's son was the perpetrator of the crime?" Nunnally murmured quietly beside him, lavender eyes trained worriedly upon the young woman standing before them all, under scrutiny by more than just _one _vain nobleman.

"It's what we believe, Nunnally. The others aren't so convinced in her innocence. If only there were visual records of the crime." He muttered under his breath.

"But the witnesses…"

Lelouch sighed through his nose. "And Upson has witnesses too. A conflicting case with strong arguments on each side."

"They _can _just stop this trial right? If evidence isn't conclusive?"

"They could. But I doubt the Emperor would. To do so would mean breaking unsaid promises to a powerful ally."

"Promises?"

"And nobody wants a mess _that big_ to clean up."

The siblings looked on and half-listened as one of Upson's witnesses was called to take the stand again and repeat his testimony.

"She will be tried guilty."

"But, brother—" Nunnally started, anxious and desperate.

"It's the simple truth, Nunnally. No one in this Court acknowledges her. She is a foreigner. And who is she, but another soldier I admitted into my service? In fact, I daresay they're all _bored_. The only fact that keeps this trial intriguing is her connection to me. Surely, you've heard the rumors spreading?"

Her brother's face was a mask — near impenetratable. But not to Nunnally. Never to Nunnally. She, who knew her brother like the back of her own hand, as well as he did her. He was worried about CC. Whether the rumors surrounding her brother and the young woman were true, Nunnally cared little. All she knew was that CC was _not _guilty of the crime they were accusing her of, and her brother was carefully deliberating.

"They want to see your reaction to the verdict."

Murmurs and shrieks of horror arose from the crowd of spectating aristocrats, presumably from the words spilling from Upson's witness' mouth. Lelouch saw CC sigh exasperatedly. Emperor Charles sat upon the throne with a severe face, the same violet eyes as his, glowering at the accused murderer standing before him. Sitting as second judge to the Emperor's right, Crown Prince Odysseus was murmuring words — presumably a prayer of sorts to the Seven for guidance; the pious and spineless man that he was. The Hand, Lord Bismarck, sat to the left with a calculating expression, scrutinizing the woman.

And above the din of the crowd, the voice that Lelouch knew so well rang loud and true.

"Your Grace, I wish to confess…"

Beside Lelouch, Nunnally gasped quietly. The Prince, however, had little to say as he couldn't believe his own ears. _What was there to confess? _She was _innocent!_

"You wish to confess?" Emperor Charles raise a brow, faint traces of a smug smile curling across his lips.

CC, the fetters around her wrist jangling from the movement, turned and faced the crowd of spectating aristocrats, hungry for any shred of entertainment.

"Yes, Sire. I wish to confess."

"You admit to being guilty of murder?" Waldstein's voice rang loud and clear amid the ever-growing murmurs of a restless gathering. "Silence!"

"Yes. I am guilty. That's what you all want to hear, right? But I'm not guilty of murder, oh no. I _am guilty of being a woman who knows how to defend herself." _She snarled, brown eyes alight with challenge as she fixed her unnerving gaze on Lord Upson — the man responsible for her current predicament. "I am _guilty _of stopping your son and his friends from taking pleasures they were going to _force out of me. I am guilty for halting my own rape!_"

"Is this your way of defending yourself?" Bismarck Waldstein asked callously.

"It's justifying her crime!"

Someone in the crowd shouted, and from his seat, Lelouch resisted the urge to stomp over to the clueless fool and wallop him until he saw sense.

"Silence!" The Emperor bellowed.

"How dare _I_, a lowly woman, _deny your son something he craved? How dare I refuse to being raped?"_

The viciousness of her own statement had the crowd whipped into a frenzy. It rose until chaos reigned and one side was screaming about the abuse of young women and how it was unjust and immoral, while another shouted at her for being a whore and a witch — to have enticed their beloved lord and kill him in cold blood. Lord Bismarck called for order once more, and commanded the Knights of the Round to placate the irritated crowd.

"I will _not _give my life for the death of five men who so clearly deserved it! _I will not lay down my life to pay for crimes I never committed. _I am _not _pleading guilty for defending my honor as a _woman_.I will get no justice in this _farce _of a trial. So I want your seven gods to _decide my fate_."

Lelouch knew the her demands before she could even say them. It was the only option available. But it was the best… To his right, he felt Nunnally tremble, and even if he knew, his own mouth still ran dry.

"I _demand a trial by combat_."

vVvVv

Ring the bell an hour from then, they said, as the Emperor called for a recess. No doubt, they would take this as a chance to let Upson decide if he wanted to hold the trial now or give him and his Champion a few days to prepare. Snacks were given out, and nobles and knights did their business. In the thick of the throng, Lelouch caught the careful eye of Cornelia, standing with her personal guard, watching him warily.

"A trial by combat. I figured you would." Lelouch spoke quietly as he approached her platform, eyes darting around the hall and taking note of everyone who so much as dared to stare.

"It's the only chance I have, Lelouch. Do you believe your father and the two other judges would null this trial?" CC half-smiled, and blew a stray curl away from her face.

He scoffed. "Of course not. Odysseus would… But he bends to the whims of the Emperor. This is a chance to punish _me._"

CC shook her head. As outlandish as it sounded, they both knew it wasn't a lie. She'd been in his service for a year, and Lelouch was quite popular for doing things his way most of the time. The Crown's orders _be damned_. "Yes it is. They think I'm so important to you."

"Well, they aren't wrong to think that." He conceded with a melancholic sigh.

"But we both know your father never liked me too anyway." CC offered in consolation. "They don't know who I am or where I came from, or why you even keep me around."

But her words did little to erase the grimace on his face. "I'm sorry for dragging you into my problems, CC."

"Don't apologize, Lelouch. It was bound to happen eventually."

"So your Champion…"

"Do you need to ask?" Cocking an eyebrow, she stared at him pointedly.

And she had a point…

One by one, the men and women present for the first half of the trial began filtering in again as the bells rung. Lelouch bid his ally and secret lover temporary goodbye as he returned to his place beside his sister. Odysseus climbed the dais, piously clasping his hands in mockery of a prayer to the gods that barely listened. Lord Bismarck was right behind the Emperor, giving off the impression that they had just come from a private conversation. In all likelihood, they probably had.

When everyone was seated and the room was in a _semblance _of order, the Emperor's eyes roved over every head before entreating Odysseus to preside.

"The Realm acknowledges the accused's right to demand judgment from the divine."

At the Crown Prince's words, the 'spectators' shifted in their seats and murmuring began to rise once more.

"The accused has the right to demand for this trial, and in the same line, the Realm has determined that the trial by combat be held here and now." Bismarck swept his arm out to gesture to the obscenely wide open space in the middle of the grand throne room.

"As the Seven are not bound by the laws of men, and we are praying for favors. This is for the best." Odysseus added, his sugary words doing nothing to ease the permanent frown etched on his Imperial Majesty's face. "Lord Upson, please name a champion from within the hall."

From the stands, this man called Upson stood, arrogantly stroked his beard as he gestured to one of the Knights of the Round. No doubt, the agreement had been made during the short recess, and it was all a ploy to set her up for losing. A grand execution masquerading as divine judgment.

How unfortunate that she didn't serve their Seven. Would she be accused of blasphemy if she claimed that there was only one god and his name was Death? Would they call her a madwoman on top of being a murderer if she told them she'd danced with Death many times and had avoided his grasp all these years?

"I name the 11th Knight of His Majesty's Round Table, Schestaal Forgnar. My gratitude to you, good Ser."

Rich knightly robes whispering across the floor, Schestaal knelt before the man on the Iron Throne, before the judges, and before Upson who looked smug as all the seven hells. Thunderous applause echoed through the high ceiling as the comely Knight rose and dramatically beat a fist over his armor-clad chest. In a voice laced with pride, he spoke.

"It is my honor to be Lord Upson's Champion, and be a vessel of the gods' justice."

During the speeches and quite the unnecessary pleasantries, members of the royal guard ushered her off of her meager platform and roughly directed her to stand before the throne and gaze upon the smug faces of the judges and her accuser. Now they fixed their intimidating eyes on her.

"You may name your Champion from within the hall, Lady." Bismarck said gruffly.

CC would have laughed at herself. Here she stood in naught but the clothes she wore underneath her lithe and padded armor, no protection whatsoever, with her entire person devoid of the weapons she usually had underneath her clothes — and even in her hair. Perhaps to some, what she was about to do would be _absurd_. But if she wasn't going to, then who? She wouldn't dare name her Prince as her Champion or any of his men. Not when she knew she was more than capable of taking on Forgnar herself.

"I shall champion myself, Your Grace."

From across the room, CC turned her head just the tiniest bit and caught Lelouch's intense stare out of her peripheral vision. Discontent among the gathered lords started to grow, and amid the noise of the murmurs, she could already hear the heckling. One about her cunt and several others saying she should just give herself to Upson to settle the matter.

Odysseus gawked at her in disbelief, and if one looked close enough, perhaps they would see him gripping the arms of his chair a little too harshly. "CC, there are soldiers and knights in this hall. You have the right to entreat any one of them to Champion you."

"How kind of you, Your Highness. But I trust no one better than myself to see this through."

"But isn't—"

"If the girl wants to take her chances against a Knight from my Round Table, let her be." The Emperor interrupted his eldest son. "Someone give the girl a weapon and free her hands so we can be done with this!"

The insults and the derogatory names went over her head as the guards did as the Emperor bid, unlocking her fetters to set her wrists free. She was deaf to it all. Deaf to the men who taunted her for being a lack-wit; for being naive and how that ridiculous pride was going to be her downfall. Deaf to the obscene suggestions of offering up her body to compensate and plead for innocence.

Some didn't know, or they simply and conveniently had forgotten that before this _farce _had taken place, she publicly served Lelouch vi Britannia in his personal army. And in secret, she was the assassin responsible for the deaths of many of the Realm's enemies across the continent.

She was _far _from being a defenseless woman. She knew _that_, and Lelouch did too as she caught his eye in the midst of the wild crowd again. A soldier whose face she recognized materialized out of the writhing mass of nobles and ladies, and immediately approached her. The notable thing about him was that he had a considerable number of weapons visible on his person. The implications were clear. 'Choose your weapon,' his eyes said.

And choose she did… Gaze drawn to the recognizable pommel, CC immediately reached for it, wordlessly asking for the whole ensemble — sword belt and all. If her Prince was going to offer up his own weapon for her use, she might as well use _all _of it. Not just the sword and its prized blade. Lelouch's soldier hastily undid the sword belt and it clacked and clattered as CC fastened it securely around her own hips; all that commotion silenced by the whine of Schestaal's own sword as he released the blade from its sheathe.

It was a cue of sorts…

The many-faced god will have a life today. But it wasn't going to be _her_.

Joining Schestaal in the middle of the makeshift ring, the two stood at considerable distance from each other. Both equally confident, and both only half-listening to the pleasantries that Odysseus had to spew.

"In the sight of the gods, we will now ascertain the innocence of one and the crimes of the other. May the father judge them justly, may the mother pour out her mercy. And may the warrior guide the hand of the Champion of the _truly _innocent."

Within that little speech, she had very little time. But all the same, CC couldn't stop herself from looking over to where she knew her Prince was, where his sister sat beside him, anxious. The Empress Consorts had the look of utter _boredom _on their faces, but from that meager gaggle of stuffy ladies, CC met Marianne's gaze. She didn't have time to think about what Marianne was trying to convey with her face, so she settled for giving her current opponent one final once-over.

Clad in armor, but not quite… Forgnar didn't have a helmet.

_Terrible choice_.

It was all she had before a singular yet booming clap from the man on the Iron Throne signaled the start of a fight that would only herald _one winner_…

Like lightning, Schestaal Forgnar lunged with a loud battle cry…

vVvVv

Lelouch could swear he could see the gears turning inside her head. As she and Schestaal stood on opposite sides of the arena, waiting for Odysseus to finish speaking — waiting for the final signal to start from his father.

He didn't know if anyone noticed that he'd sent one of his men to approach her with an assortment of weapons to choose from. Not that he cared if anyone made note. It was only natural, wasn't it? He wasn't one of the judges, nor was he in the list of witnesses. He could do whatever he pleased. And if his actions pointed to him favoring her, _then so be it_.

At least this crowd could see that the _real victim _for the perpetrated crime had an ally…

Her favored rapier and her dagger were included in the collection strapped around the soldier. So it was a pleasant surprise when she opted for _his _sword instead. He didn't have the luxury to ruminate further on the endless implications of her actions alone, because his father gave the signal.

And Schestaal had the first swing…

It was all the famed Knight had to give though. Because in a movement that was too swift to properly comprehend in one breath, Schestaal was reeling back from the force of a well-aimed jab to the arm, the sword that had once been in his hand clattered noisily across the floor.

Later, Lelouch would look back on this and listen to others retell the tale and piece together a more complete picture of CC (with a sheathed sword at her waist) striking first, catching Schestaal's sword-hand before he could place a blow. In the same breath, her palm hit his other arm, knocking it aside so he staggered and reeled back.

But for now, even the Prince with his extensive military career couldn't help but grimace when they all watched her leg come up. Too fast… It was _too fast_. Movements as smooth as water and quick as a deadly mamba. He barely caught Schestaal's face and how his eyes bulged when her foot slammed into his steel-clad chest. A kick so forceful, anyone paying attention could hear the impact. If the Knight hadn't worn a breastplate, it would have been a kick that would send him _flying_.

Forgnar fell on his back instead. To his credit, he scrambled to get up and collect himself after having his behind handed to him, barely a minute in. But he was stopped mid-rise as an anguished cry carried across the wide space. CC had not wanted to give him a break, and had promptly shoved her foot between his legs.

As quickly as it began, it also ended. The whine of an unsheathed blade. The sickening squelch of a sword piercing flesh. The vile crunch of splintered bone. Steel struck the marble floor as the sword ran through a fleshy throat. Howling turned to gurgling, and then silence. A _deafening silence_ across the hall — so stark and almost vulgar.

Red stained the once pristine marble — crawling ever so slowly across the floor as rivers of red poured from the fallen Knight's mutilated throat. Eyes still wide, furious and tormented. The mouth was frozen into a silent scream…

It made for a strangely fascinating yet grotesque picture…

There one of the Emperor's most-prized Knights lay, stuck to the throne room's floor with Lelouch's sword sprouting from his rapidly cooling corpse.

Less than a minute…

She'd ended it in _less than a minute_. He _knew_. He'd been _counting_. Approximately 56 seconds. And it was _barely _a fight. There she stood, taking shallow breaths and splattered in Forgnar's blood, but she was unscathed from the ordeal. If he were a simple outsider with no knowledge of what was _actually _happening, he could have easily mistook that for public murder.

Lelouch always _knew _what CC was capable of. He _knew _she was well-versed in killing using a _variety _of ways. Hell, he'd seen her _fight before_. But _clearly_, her sparring sessions and life-or-death fights were _leagues _apart from each other. No one had the right to accuse her of holding back during training. She _needed _to hold back if the opponent must survive.

She'd told him before, hadn't she?

"_I was not trained to fight in tournaments and win games. The Order can call it however they want. But it's plain and clear as day. I was_ trained to kill._"_

Anarchy followed the eerie silence as some insulted nobleman in the crowd shouted.

"You don't fight with honor!"

"That was barely even a fight!"

"It was murder!"

"You _Witch_!"

Beside him, Nunnally with her ashen face stared at the carnage. Lelouch wanted to hit himself. He should have _insisted _on Nunnally leaving the hall before the fight began. But his sister had been adamant about seeing the ordeal through. And the comments from the unreasonable noblemen and women were _not _helping. For one, how could they call it _murder _when it was _clearly _a trial by combat?

Nunnally's wide lavender eyes flitted to his face when she felt a gentle squeeze on her cold hand.

"She did that." Nunnally uttered. And to Lelouch it seemed like only his touch on her hand was keeping his sister anchored to their horrible reality. "I— May I speak to her, brother?"

Lelouch shook his head as he squeezed Nunnally's hand in reassurance one last time. In the balcony above, he caught pink hair fluttering in the breeze through the open windows as his other sister, Euphemia left the premises. "I can arrange for you to speak to CC soon, I promise. But not now, Nunnally."

A single look at his sister's two personal guards clued them in to what her older brother wanted.

"Euphemia is leaving the hall. Join her, Nunnally. I'll come and see you later."

Nunnally glanced at what remained of the once glorious Knight, at CC standing in judgment under the spectators, at her father, her eldest half-brother, and the Hand of the ruler. She'd had quite enough, suffice to say.

"Thank you, big brother."

Lelouch waited and kept his eye on Nunnally's discreetly retreating back behind the crowd. When she and her guards disappeared through a side door, Lelouch sighed and left his place, mindful of the way his mother was staring at him.

"Silence!" The Emperor bellowed, fuming at the sight of his dead Knight. No doubt, thinking about how Schestaal's father, Lord Bolvona Forgnar would react to the news of his son being killed during a murder trial.

"The gods have made their will known." Lelouch exclaimed, his bold declaration carried in the air, and as if it were a pacifier, silenced the crowd talking over each other. With sure steps, the Prince came to stand beside CC, violet eyes burning with challenge as they drilled through the man sitting on the Iron Throne.

"You do _not _speak for the gods—" Lord Upson, red with rage, started but paused, remembering his place and whom he was addressing. The arrogant Prince could do without that smug smirk though. Nonetheless, Upson sheepishly knelt before his Emperor and asked for His Grace's mercy and forgiveness for deigning to speak insolently to one of His Grace's offspring.

"No, I do not. But the results of the trial do."

Everyone looked to the glorious Emperor for the formal verdict. It took too long — so long that Lelouch seriously considered they would still pass the _unjustly_ guilty verdict. CC was innocent through and through. Even without a trial by combat… His lover was innocent from the moment they arrested her until this trial began. But he knew as well as everyone that it was useless if their father—

"The gods have indeed made their will known." Charles zi Britannia's glower never left his son's imposing form beside the woman he _dared _to call a member of his army. "The girl is innocent."

vVvVv

It was a relief to remove the other face and settle into the one she held at birth. Her _real _face. It was a dead giveaway — a telltale mark — of the young girl that had grown up within the stone walls of her father's massive seaside home. Not that anyone alive in Volantis would know who she was now anyway. Her family name had disappeared. Stripped of all its finery and honor.

In her mind's eye, she was still squinting underneath the harsh rays of the midday sun, still absorbed in the music of the waves as they crashed against the many boulders dotting the shoreline. Twas the music that drowned out the wailing of a new widow — masked the uproar happening in her old home as one of her mother's servants had whisked her away to someplace safe. Her father's last request.

CC sighed heavily as she brought herself out of the reverie. There was no point in dwelling in the past too much. Because it was the past… And there was no changing it. She chose to focus on her present instead. And at the moment, that involved tying her hair up into a knot so the bathwater wouldn't soak it.

She was in the middle of undoing the laces that held the robe together when the door to the Prince's bathing chamber opened. And since there was only one other person allowed to enter the Prince's suite at this hour, it was without shame or hesitation that she let the flimsy cloth fall away from her shoulders.

Silence blanketed the room, only interrupted with the sound of movement and the rippling of water. Dozens of flickering candles sheltered in sconces filled the en-suite washroom with warm light. Entranced by the atmosphere and the view before him, Lelouch found himself watching the robe and how it whispered against her skin as it fell. It gracelessly pooled around her feet before she stepped out of it and lowered herself into the waters within his spacious and luxuriously cut marble bathtub.

The sight of her nudity and her womanly curves did little to faze him though. No… What held his attention were the faint outline of scars across her back. He'd seen them before. He'd even touched them more than a dozen times now. But seeing her scars again after how arduous the day had been (with the trial and all) was a stark reminder to Lelouch all over again.

She could have died today… But as she always did, Circe fought to live.

"You caused quite the stir, CC. And quite the show too." He commented, making himself comfortable on one plush ottoman pushed up against the wall.

Opening her eyes at the sound of his voice, CC lifted her head off of the edge of the tub to stare at Lelouch's far-from-regal profile — just bare feet, cropped pants, and white undershirt. "Was it that big a deal? I don't see anything special about fighting for oneself and defeating a man."

Lelouch pulled a face. "To you, probably not. Schestaal was an anointed Knight of the Round. And being one of the Knights of the Round isn't exactly a title to be taken lightly."

And then he saw the skepticism shadow her countenance; her golden eyes narrowed and plainly contemplative.

"You're not convinced of his prowess." Was the assumption that first came to mind, as opposed to the many others.

She picked up a washcloth folded perfectly next to a line of fragrant bath salts, dipped it in water, wrung it out, and set to work on cleansing herself from the day's sweat and whatever remained of the splattered blood. "Suzaku would easily trounce him. And if a woman could defeat him quickly, then I suppose he wasn't very good or suitable for protecting the Emperor at all."

"Not everyone is as skilled in swordplay as _you_." Lelouch's voice sounded exhausted as he sighed deeply and ran a hand through his tousled hair.

His words made her pause. The washcloth hovered above her opposite arm, and with quiet frankness, she replied, "I wouldn't call it a skill."

"No? What would you call it then?"

"A way of life."

For her, _of course _it was. Lelouch sighed, and inwardly scolded himself because he should have seen that answer coming.

"For survival. You do it quite a lot with every mission I send you on. And before you met me, you must have…" The Prince trailed off; his mind too tired and stressed to think of the proper word to describe the tribulations she'd been through.

At his hesitance, CC let her lips curl up into a weak smile, abandoning the task of rubbing her skin with a washcloth in favor of watching her Prince and the varied expressions flying across his face. "I've been living this way for most of my life now. 11 years and counting."

11 years since she was taken from her home…

Heaving a resigned sigh, Lelouch stood up and made for the looking glass situated above a vanity across the room. "Before I forget, Nunnally wishes to speak to you."

"When I finish my bath, I'll head for her chambers at once."

Shaking his head, Lelouch rifled through a drawer to find new pairs of linen cloth and freshly folded robe. "Not tonight. Tomorrow morning would be best. It's getting late, and we wouldn't want to disrupt my sister's rest, would we?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you dote on her too much?"

"More than I care to hear, truth be told."

"What happens when she falls in love?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow, waiting for the explosive reaction she was sure to receive after such a question.

With mirth, CC smirked as he quite _literally _dropped whatever he was holding in favor of gesticulating wildly to her '_absurd _notions.'

"Falls in lo— What?! I—"

"I don't find it difficult to imagine you following her and her future beau around just to make sure he doesn't try anything."

"There's nothing wrong about a brother protecting his sister!"

And there was the outburst she had expected to hear all this time. But for all his entertaining reactions, CC couldn't stop herself from sobering and reflecting more deeply than she should on the last defensive statement he made.

"No, there isn't." CC wholeheartedly agreed.

The way Lelouch vi Britannia cared for his sister was remarkable. In a world wrought with suffering and so much despair, it was truly a sight to behold and a phenomenon to experience. For it was that unconditional familial love for his sister that erased the majority of his sins, and made some people see that he wasn't as heartless as they first thought.

"When I first met her, Princess Nunnally vi Britannia, and saw the two of you together, I couldn't help thinking about how fortunate she was to have been given a brother as protective and doting as you."

Honest words from a woman who had nothing to hide in the moment. With a careful eye, she watched him as he carried on with his self-assigned tasks.

"Cornelia and Euphemia too," CC continued. "And it amazes me. Because I've seen siblings who murder each other in the name of gold or power or for lust. Sometimes all three. It was always one of the reasons why I felt I was right not to put my trust in anyone. If you can't trust your own blood, why trust others?"

"And now?"

A wry smile greeted him as he turned to her. "Well, I trust _you_, so that's a good start."

The answer earned her a chuckle.

"What are you doing?" She found herself asking, and then inwardly berated herself for voicing the silly question.

She wasn't blind or _stupid_. Of _course _she knew what he was doing. With mirth glittering in his eyes, he appeared to have noticed her self-deprecation as he shook his head and continued the trivial task of undressing himself. Not that he did it for long.

"Joining you." He answered, folding his dirty breeches and undershirt neatly before he placed them on top of the others in the laundry hamper. Body in full display, he shamelessly approached the tub, dipping one leg and then the other. "Shift over."

Who was she deny the wishes of her Prince?

Or at least, that was the courtly way to put it. In all truth, she really didn't mind them taking a bath together anyway. They were past shy now. The water sloshed around, disturbed by the motion of Lelouch settling in behind her. When all was still and notably quiet again, she softly sighed as streaks of water poured from his cupped hands and onto her bare shoulders.

Pleased with her reaction, he continued and did the same to her other shoulder before gently pressing his palms on her shoulder blades. His thumbs kneaded the muscles with an expertise akin to the palace's employed masseuse. To say it felt good would be understating it. It was relaxing and distracting enough to encourage her mind to wander.

Both weren't sure how long they were engaged in this particular sort of activity, but soon enough, the Prince reached for the washcloth she had abandoned earlier. With extraordinary care, he gently rubbed the back of her neck, clearing the skin and the pores of invisible dirt.

CC seriously considered commenting about how well he was doing this, but chose not to. Something about the tranquil silence begged to not be disturbed. And so she bent to its wish and held her tongue; focusing on how gentle and careful he was being as he cupped water in his hands again and let it trickle onto her back.

Absorbed in their new and private ritual, she was understandably startled when he broke the silence.

"It ended quickly…" Glancing at him over her shoulder, she caught the far-off gaze and reached for his hand, squeezing his digits gently to bring him back to their present. "Too quickly."

_And brutally_, went unsaid. Judging by the tone of his voice, she wasn't quite sure if that bothered him or if he was simply voicing his observations.

"What happens to Upson now?" She asked instead, refusing to dwell on Schestaal's broken body and the congealing blood on the floor when Lelouch had marched her defiantly out of the throne room.

He shook his head, wrapping the cloth around his finger as he cleaned the backs of her ears — an action that tickled her more than she cared to admit. "I don't know yet. And that remains to be seen. Father could very well just drop the matter all together and never bring it up. Even in a small Council meeting."

Lelouch wrung the washcloth out and chucked the fabric into a waiting bin — which one of the servants would come and collect in the morning for washing. CC made a sound of agreement as she settled back into his body, curling up against him and his warmth.

"If I hadn't demanded a trial by combat, I would have been beheaded by now."

Sensing the inflection in her quiet voice, his arms closed around her, pressing her closer — if that were possible — until all manner of space between them was nonexistent. "Unfortunately true. Not that I'd allow it in the first place."

"Careful. You sound remarkably fond of me."

"I think _this _proves that I already am." He returned her joke and merely snuggled closer to her.

Her titters and her teasing sounded forced tonight. Her smooth and ageless voice filled with wariness that seeped into her bones, the Prince wished he could do more. For everything she went through and did for him, he felt inadequate. What actions of significant value had he contributed to her? It was one of the reasons why he showered her with affection and favors, but was that enough? Everything he did for her always seemed to pale in comparison to what she always gave to him.

He liked it when she wore her hair down, but there were times — just like this — when he appreciated her tying and putting it up. It was being given free access to usually guarded skin. He nuzzled her jaw affectionately and peppered kisses along the back of her neck and her ears as he resumed massaging the base of her nape and her back, smoothing his palms over the glistening skin. Taking pleasure in the way she subtly melted at his touch.

He kept at it until he found himself repeating his hands' route, familiarizing himself with her skin yet again — memorizing all the curves and dips, the pads of his fingers tracing over scar tissues and coarse marks of old and deep wounds.

Some of them shown red in the candlelight, presenting him with a vague image of what they might have looked like when they had been fresh — open and bleeding. This sight coupled with what he had witnessed in the throne room today prompted him to ask the questions he normally wouldn't, out of respect for her privacy and her past.

Distracted and calmed by his ministrations and his careful studying, CC was brought out of her own reflections when he asked, "What was it like?"

"You're going to have to be more specific." She murmured, taking his right hand to intertwine their fingers. She pressed their clasped hands above her beating heart, for no complicated reason other than to continue basking in the intimacy of the moment.

"Training with the Faceless Men." He supplied, hot breath ghosting over her nape, inviting some raised hairs.

"It was spiritual. Very religious." She answered, losing herself in memories of days gone by — of days spent caring for the bodies of the departed, peeling off their faces, before laying them in their final resting place. "Methodical. But the fight training was brutal."

Her answer didn't surprise him. "How brutal?" He still asked, hungry for details in his quest to understand her more — to know her _better_.

She made note of the way he was mapping out the scars on her body with his fingers, and simply said, "Brutal enough to leave deep scars."

She told him of the time they bound her head-to-toe and left her in the same place for days, covered in her own excrement — to teach her how to release herself from a full bind, until she figured out how to release herself; until no form of restraint would be enough to hold her captive. She told him how she'd broken her right hand on purpose once, so she could practice swordplay with her left hand until she could hold any weapon and wield it as masterfully as she did with her right.

She told him about the time they'd stripped her of the privilege to see with her own eyes. Blind as a newborn. It was done for half a year until she was capable of fighting in utter blackness; until she was capable of seeing just as well with her other senses.

It was without shame or fear that she laid out her truth. Told him about every 'horror' she'd endured, and how she'd emerged afterward. Told him about the experiences that made her the woman she was today.

She hated the Order for their ways, and admired them at the same time. Stuck between loathing them for expelling her and being grateful for everything they'd taught her at the same time.

When she'd finished, she was overcome with a sense of being unsure. She sincerely hoped he wasn't looking at her with pity. She didn't want to hear him say that he felt sorry for her. She was beyond that now, and she didn't want it.

So when she turned her body around to straddle him and see his face fully, she was glad. For it wasn't pity she saw in his eyes. It was admiration and awe. Respect. Something she never received for a long time. Whenever she'd told anyone during her previous travels, she'd been coddled and comforted — as if their sympathy could erase what she'd been through.

Because she saw herself as a survivor and not a victim… And she felt humbled and glad that he could see that as well as she did.

It was her only solace — her one source of dignity and pride after every despicable thing she'd done.

She'd done it all to survive…

"I've snuffed out hundreds of lives. Not even stopping to consider why I did it. And why I still do. But just because I do it, doesn't mean I take pleasure in it."

Of course she didn't. Circe wasn't a madwoman. Nor was she a monster. She was just another human being trying to survive in a cruel and unjust world.

"You hate it… Ironic, isn't it? It's what you do for a living. And it's part of what I do to stake my claim to the throne. However unlikely that may be."

"Don't take me for a naive woman." She insisted firmly, stunning eyes hardening to flinty chips of gold. "I know its necessity, especially in times of conflict. Sometimes the life of one person isn't worth the life of thousands — even millions. It's just—"

"I've killed as many as you have. Probably more if we account for the lives that ended at my command." He offered solemnly, brushing his knuckles against the corner of her mouth while his other hand gently rubbed her arm. "Nevertheless, I want you to know I understand. I may not have gone through every single hardship you have. But in some ways, we are one and the same."

Yes… _Yes, they were_.

Close to sobbing with relief, she barely managed to rein her emotions in. It still didn't stop her from letting the tiniest bit show. Touching their foreheads together, she nuzzled his nose and refused to tear her eyes away from those enthralling violet irises that communicated so much.

Forged by violence and stained in blood. Forced to take lives to accomplish something greater. And something told him this path of theirs was just the beginning — that there were still many more to overcome. Still more sacrifices to make — others and theirs.

"I really don't express my gratitude enough. But for what it's worth, I'm really grateful to you, Lelouch…"

Because he'd given her a chance when she'd been at the brink of giving up completely. Because he'd outstretched a hand when others wouldn't. And from the moment she realized she cared for him more than a servant should care for her master, she'd made a vow. To stand beside him and fight for him and protect him.

Oblivious to the sentiments flying around in her own head, Lelouch smiled and leaned into her touch as she lightly cupped his face and brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones. "As am I to you."

Even more so, perhaps…

He was in awe of her. He marveled at her strength — at her iron-will. Others would have caved or have given up entirely. And he didn't blame anyone if they sought the relief that only Death could provide. But it was admirable to come across people who didn't lose that will to live.

He held a living and breathing weapon. And it was beautiful.

_She _was beautiful.

"I don't repulse you?" CC caressed his sensual lips with her fingertips, counting each and every dark eyelash framing those gorgeous eyes. "You don't think I'm a witch?"

His fingernails lightly dragged across her abdomen, the back of his hand brushing the underside of a scarred breast. Holding her chin gently, he brought their faces closer as heavy breaths fanned against her full and peach lips. Her body vibrated with anticipation that made him smile.

"I wouldn't mind. Never will I find another woman like you."

Their lips brushed and her breath seized. But what he said next tore down the last of her doubts and her own secret insecurities.

"If you're a witch, then I shall be your warlock."

Lips fuse together into a kiss that's both lustful and wholesome, relishing every sweet sentiment, eradicating the doubts and the self-deprecation. What was there left, but to savor this heady concoction of affection, devotion, and adoration? A kiss so profound that both inwardly acknowledged it would be difficult to pinpoint one in the future that could match _this_.

Because all that mattered in this single moment in time was the witch and her warlock, willingly falling over the precipice of unbridled passion as they surrendered to one another.


	11. The Wheels of Fate

**A/N: I know this took a while again. But thank you for reading everyone, and for each new follow and each new favorite. I appreciate it so much :) Thank you wootanin, void242, Akira-Hayama, Euryphaessa Gray, Command Unit, and Freudentraene.**

**I don't know if I did any of these scenes the justice they deserve. But I tried :) I hope you'll have a happy reading anyway :D**

* * *

**The Wheels of Fate**

"_Will you promise me you will do all you can to return to me?"_

_She whispered her inquiry against his lips, her hands balled into loose fists against his chest as she stared at him through glassy lavender eyes. The tears were threatening to spill, and she tried in vain to keep them from falling. She hadn't wanted him to see her cry. He had this particular assumption that whenever she cried, she was sad._

_Yes, it was _partly _true… But now she shed tears borne from the anxious trembling of her heart._

_What if she would never see him again?_

_Men so often made promises, sailed to war, and never returned — leaving the ones they loved bereft and lost._

_As horrible as it sounded, she didn't want to be one of them. But more than anything, a gallant and honorable man like himself shouldn't die just yet._

_A tender smile bloomed across his lips. "Yes, my Princess." Gentle fingers held her chin as he tilted her head up so she would look at him. "I will always find my way back to you."_

_He must have sensed the longing still lodged deep within her heart. Her surprised gasp was cut short as he swiftly kissed her once more — both blissfully ignorant of the wind tousling their hair. The Princess clutched her Prince closer, winding her arms around his shoulders, inwardly wishing she could stay with him the way they were for eternity._

_They kept kissing until their shared breaths dwindled, and when his lips left hers, his Princess looked adorably flustered, and panting ever so quietly._

"_I love you, Euphie."_

_Heart melting, she leaned into his touch as he brushed her cheek delicately with his fingertips, before those same gentle hands wandered lower and briefly fingered the the delicate yet elegant golden chain clasped around her slender neck._

"_I'm glad it suits you."_

_Taking his hand with both of her own, she pressed her lips to the knuckles of his first two fingers, gazing at his face adoringly, shadowed in the perfect pink hues of the sun setting across the sea._

"_You made it for me, of course it does. I love you, Suzaku."_

As swiftly as it arrived, the memory faded. But even if her present reality had returned, it still couldn't erase the blissful smile across her lips. Dreaming of her glorious Prince standing regally at the head of his royal war ship filled her with pride and hope — two emotions that drowned the worry and fear that had lingered ever since she watched the giant sails with the sigil of his house unfurl and disappear over the horizon.

He was off to fight in her brother's war. And here she remained with dear Nunnally, sheltered and safe from the conflict and the horrors. She didn't quite know how to feel about that, knowing her own sister and her brother had taken it upon themselves to challenge their sire who sat enthroned amid the Seven Kingdoms. And now her beloved had joined the fray.

To fear for his safety and his well-being was only natural, wasn't it? But whenever the worries threatened to so much as eclipse her elation and her true happiness, her hands would instinctively wander to the necklace — the gift he'd given her before he set sail to lay a naval siege.

The pink sapphire pendant suspended on the gold chain twinkled at her, and she gingerly cupped the fashioned jewel in one hand, turning it over to find his initials engraved on the back.

A thoughtful gift… And rightly so, for the magnitude of sentiment it held.

"You miss him terribly." Came a soft voice to her right — one she recognized. Still clutching the precious pendant, she turned to Nunnally, returning the younger girl's easy smile.

"Already." Princess Euphemia sighed. "A few measly days, and I miss him already. I miss all of them really."

Gathering the skirts of her dress, Nunnally claimed the empty space on the stone bench beside her love-stricken sister. She tucked a few locks of loose hair behind her ear as her own eyes were drawn to the opulent accessory Euphemia now had around her neck.

"Me too. Not just Suzaku though. Sometimes it's easy to forget that big brother and the others had marched to King's Landing more than a fortnight ago. It only seems like yesterday." Sighing wistfully, Nunnally discreetly eyed the custom-made jewelry some more before finally deciding to ask. "I imagine such a gift holds much meaning."

A peculiar sort of giddiness shown on Euphemia, and her eyes twinkled as her cheeks colored a rosy blush. "It does." There was a contemplative pause before she continued, "He— He asked me to marry him."

Nunnally's delighted laughter tickled Euphemia, and she shared her younger sister's enthusiasm. For it _was _somewhat of a big deal, wasn't it? A day before he left, Dorne's Prince had invited her for a leisurely stroll along one of the many battlements of Dragonstone. With windswept hair and ocean-kissed faces, he knelt before her and asked for her hand. After her joyous but shyly given 'yes,' he'd clasped their engagement necklace around her neck with her hearty permission.

She'd had some time to treasure the memory and revisit this particular instance over and over again since the day he'd left with the last of his fleet. She let the temporary secret stew and boil over, until she could no longer contain her exuberance and her joy, and jumped at the chance to tell Nunnally as soon as her younger sister had given away her intrigue.

"Do you think Cornelia would—"

"She would be happy." Nunnally beamed, clutching her sister's hand. "Surprised, but undoubtedly happy."

"I imagine Lelouch would be the same when you find your love one day."

"Oh, my big brother would faint."

The Princesses giggled at the thought of their doting brother falling over and dead to the world at the thought of Nunnally marrying a man. A seasoned military overseer he may be, he still had his moments of overreactions and being outright ridiculous towards the silliest of things.

"May I ask why you came out here though?" Euphemia asked curiously.

Nunnally's smile was radiant. "I was looking for you to ask if you'd like to join me in prayer at the Sept. Our siblings and your future husband could use our prayers."

Euphemia couldn't agree more…

The Princesses left hand-in-hand; off to pray for the brother and sister who'd launched their holy war, and for the faithful beau who'd promised her his safe return.

vVvVv

The war camp was awash with a myriad of activity, fires burned brightly as men, lords, and squires prepared hot meals or sat down to have drinks — just like _every _night. And CC left the comforting noise behind from the moment she pushed one of the tent flaps aside and welcomed herself into his tent.

Before today, they would have joked and teased one another, in a way that spoke volumes about how comfortable she was in his presence. But not now…

The tension was too palpable, and it was what made her uphold the mask. At the moment, she feared that if she did, her _true _feelings would bleed through easily. And he would see… He would see how _her _decisions and _her _words grieved her. She promised herself long ago that if he was in a situation where all rational considerations were abandoned, she would step up and be the voice of reason _for him_. To keep him from making choices he would sorely regret later on.

"Pull yourself together, Lelouch." She made herself say. He'd been holed up in here after the Farnese sons had left. She left him alone to process his thoughts, but now they needed to talk. "You've a cordial meeting with Lord Farnese to finalize the agreement and swear some oaths. And also to meet your future bride, of course."

"A _stranger_." He uttered with such contempt. "A bride I didn't choose, and _don't care for_."

"It doesn't change the fact that you need her and her father's armies. Lady Shirley might just be the perf—"

"Shut your mouth, CC."

The words that left his mouth were far from an outburst. The opposite. His tone was calm and cold as it could get. He hovered over the table that held the great maps of the continent, staring down at the pieces as if they were the real armies, marching against one another in a bid for supremacy. And even if he had his back turned to her, the distress was plainly visible on his hunched shoulders.

Yes, she understood how upset he was. She'd seen his expression when Farnese's sons had announced the marriage and left. He wasn't happy about it. But it was a necessary sacrifice. She thought he knew that better than anyone.

There was no such thing as a war without its own demands.

"You need to get over it. It's done."

She didn't flinch or start when his quiet voice rose, bordering on a yell as he turned to face her with fury burning bright in his usually warm violet eyes.

"_Yes_, and no thanks to _you!_" He ran a hand through his tousled hair and unclasped the mantle around his shoulders. The fabric pooled around his feet as he stalked towards her in just his fighting leathers. "Just be _quiet, Circe._ For the love of all that's sacred in the Sept, just _shut up_!"

He stared her down in challenge, waiting for cracks in her composure — wondering if he'd see his words affecting her as heavily as he'd hoped. And yet, when he saw the faintest hint of hurt flicker across her eyes, he knew he had overstepped a line. He'd reprimanded her before (during those early days), and she was as stoic as ever. But to see that his words affected her now more than they did before struck a chord within him.

The distress melted, settling into sorrow instead. The hands balled into fists at his sides loosened, and they reached for her face. She shook her head and stepped out of reaching distance.

"You were so irrational—"

"Was _I _irrational?" CC interrupted him before he could finish. "I'm certainly not the one throwing a temper tantrum over an obvious political choice."

"Political or no, I _didn't want it! _And neither did _you_."

"I—"

"Don't you _dare _tell me otherwise!" The seethed words hung in the air as an uneasy silence wedged itself between them. Several breaths passed before the anguished Prince uttered. "You'd sacrifice _us_?"

"If it meant helping you get what you want, _yes_." CC declared resolutely, raising her chin just the tiniest bit to assert her claim.

Lelouch felt like he'd been punched straight to the gut with those words. But _why would she—?_

"Besides, what could _you _have done under the circumstance?"

"We could have stalled for _time!_ Let me figure out what to do overnight. You _didn't _have to agree to his terms on the spot—"

"We don't _have _time." CC argued, pushing him back gently when he tried to cage her against the table with his body and between his arms. "You once told me you were willing to do whatever _it takes _to win this war. For your mother. For the freed men who now fight for you, and for the common people who look to you for salvation. You _promised _me you would continue, no matter the price. And there will be plenty more to pay if you want your revolution to succeed. The affair is a small price to pay."

Their _affair_? Was _that _how CC saw this? After a year of being with her, and falling in love with her, she would simply shrug what they had off as an _affair?_

The Prince couldn't believe his own ears as memory after memory played in his mind's eye. The times they trained, those times she'd been with him on clandestine trips away from the capital; the tribulations they faced. Did a simple affair require her to confide in him about her own past and her own worries? And what about that time he'd cried and mourned in her arms after his mother had been executed? Was _that _part of a trivial affair? Each time he'd held her, watched her sleep, and thought to himself how much he wanted her by his side… Was that not profound?

Did she _really _not recognize their sentiments for what it was? Or was she simply feigning ignorance?

They'd never admitted it to each other plainly. But now, more than ever, Lelouch had the compulsion to blurt out the bald truth.

But at the same time, he couldn't…

"Whatever is between us isn't a small price to pay." The Prince muttered dejectedly.

He eyed her tanned skin and ringlets of black hair; knowing full well what was beneath the physical glamour. He wished she would discard her mask. If he was going to tell her, he wanted to say it to her _real face_.

"The love that Suzaku and my sister, Euphemia, share is not a small price to pay."

He'd given his best friend his blessing as Euphy's brother. Even before this whole ordeal with Farnese, he had been well aware of the inevitable matrimonial union between the Dornish Prince and his Westerosi Princess. Their love was priceless.

That same love and devotion (perhaps more) was what he'd poured out on CC countless times. And not just to her. He loved his mother and his sisters, didn't he?

No… Love didn't _have _a price. And because it was priceless, it couldn't be used in making trades or signing off deals.

"You're right. It's an exorbitant price." CC sighed sadly, ignoring the way Lelouch glowered at her. "Neither your sister nor your friend deserve to be torn away from each other. That just makes your sacrifice more profound. And thanks to that, you have the Twins, and roughly 25,000 more men to join your cause."

How could she _say _such things? He stared at her stoic expression hopelessly.

Distraught, he plopped down unceremoniously atop the cot, and buried his ashen face in his hands. His and Euphy's hand in marriage in-exchange for passage through the bridge and more men. (In hindsight, better him than Nunnally). Politics was always brutal. He knew _that _much from growing up in King's Landing. But _he _had been the one making the demands along with his family then. Now _he _was on the other side of the gate. Now _he _had to knock and ask for the toll.

She was right (_in part_), of course. But… But—

"I didn't want the price to be you." It was the quiet confession that stopped her in her tracks. She'd been about to leave, to give him the space he needed to sort through the recent events some more, but he'd stopped her with this. "I didn't want it to be Euphy or Nunnally or Cornelia, or anyone else I care about."

And despite herself, CC found a sad smile blossoming across her lips as she let the tent flap close again. She approached his anguished form and knelt before him, inwardly berating herself for making choices for them both. His hands were unsteady and they trembled as he covered his face.

"The reality of the prices you have to pay in war isn't lost on you, I believe. You _knew _something like this could happen — that this was a possibility."

"It doesn't mean I want it." He insisted heavily.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her reach for her mask. It slipped off of her face like protective cloth from a canvas. Lovely bullion eyes gazed at his face, stained with melancholy as she murmured her sincere apology. "I'm sorry, Lelouch…"

"In all reality, I don't have to marry her until _after _the war. I can just void it when I win."

"And create an insulted enemy out of Farnese? Even tarnish your own name? You will need your reputation if you're going to—"

Bitter laughter filled the four corners of the royal war tent. "My reputation is sullied enough as it is. I'm leading a rebellion. I'm a would-be usurper. Might as well be called a tyrant too."

Clearly disproving of his ideas, CC climbed to her feet. "Don't be stupid, Lelouch. You're smart. Act like it. If all goes well, and Farnese holds up his end of the bargain, don't hang him out to dry. Honor your promises. Or you face the threat of a slighted old man, and soon your realm falls apart the same way you took it."

"Of course it will." He muttered unhappily, taking CC's admonishment for what it was.

"Besides, there's no rule that says the Emperor is restricted to only having one wife." Her much quieter voice made him look up. With close intent, he gauged her face. "I can still serve you, perhaps even give you a son if that's what you desire."

Why was she suddenly stooping so low as to suggest she be his concubine?

With a face devoid of emotion, CC watched him and didn't flinch from the glower that stared straight _through _her. "I am _not _my father, and I _refuse _to stoop to his level of depravity."

Rising to his feet, he strode towards her purposefully with resolve, hurt, and anger swimming in a striking sea of violet. "And here I thought you knew me better than that."

_Of course _she did. In the span of almost two years, she'd never thought it possible to understand another human being so intimately the way she understood him. But it was _perfectly _possible, for she didn't just understand him, her treacherous heart cried out her love for him too.

But she couldn't tell him that… As much as it pained her, she couldn't lay down her truth. She would have wanted to. The many-faced god _knew _she wanted to. Before all this, it was just a matter of waiting for the right time. But in light of everything that happened, she knew she couldn't do it now.

He needed to cross that bridge, and he _needed _more men. They didn't have _time _to find another way. In the event when Calares' forces would regroup, they needed the Twins to mount a heavy resistance against the ambushing party. Perhaps her Prince _could _find a way to end Euphy's marriage with one of Farnese's sons. (She had no doubt he would find a way). But that would only solidify his own future-marriage with Lady Shirley even more.

So it was with a heart weighed down by grief that she uttered.

"I warm your bed and serve as your assassin. I am a servant and you are my master. I told you before. I am _not _fit to be your queen or your empress. Not an ounce of noble blood is in my veins. With whatever remains of my days, I vowed to serve you, and I _will_. If you want us to sustain our nightly affairs after you take the Iron Throne, I'm sure you know you can do as you please—"

Word after word left her mouth, and the more she spoke, the more she nailed the lid of the coffin on the quiet love that had blossomed between them. And he couldn't let her. He _refused _to… For she was not just his servant, and not just another warrior in his growing army.

She was _his _equal. _His _love. _His _queen.

Did she _not understand_? He loved her! _Loved her_.

And if she knew him at all, then perhaps she'd come to the conclusion that he _refused _to let anything terrible happen to the people he loved.

"Weren't my own actions clear enough?" He interrupted her before she could go any farther. He reached for her again, and when she didn't shy away, he framed her cheeks with his hands, and stared into her eyes with an intensity that rivaled the brightest of stars. "Perhaps I _have _failed in this regard, if you're assuming I don't love you enough at all. I promised us both that _you _would be my Queen."

He was so winded. Ever the impassioned speaker… It was so characteristic of him. And judging from the way he looked at her now, and how desperate he sounded as he _tried _to make her understand, CC knew he spoke nothing but the truth.

So he loved her, after all…

That's why she hated herself so horribly at this very moment. She vowed never to lie to him, but she was lying _now _— lying with the words from her lips. Every divine being in existence knew that she loved him too. Loved him more than she should.

But what was her love in the face of his cause?

She would rather see him alive and love him from afar, than attach herself to him now and watch him die from their poor choices.

"It was never meant to be." She was never meant to be his queen.

They may have promised, but times changed. Circumstances piled up. And promises needed to be broken if they were going to win.

"Circe—"

"I don't understand why you're so worked up about this." She made herself say in spite of the cracks in her own feelings, growing ever larger the longer they stayed this way. "As I've said, you can marry Shirley and keep me around if you want to."

"Why can't you understand? _I _want to marry _you_. Not _her_. I love _you _and not _her_." At her sad smile, his grip on her tightened slightly as he pulled her closer. "You don't believe me."

_Of course, I do, Lelouch_. _Of course I believe you._

And she loved him too. _Gods above, _she loved this dauntless and fiery Prince so much. She had no right to him, but she loved him all the same. And no meddling of scheming lords or great wars would ever erase the imprint he'd already left on her very soul.

_I love you… I love you… I love you…_

She _wished _she could tell him. She _wanted _to, in this very moment. With their faces so close and their foreheads together, and his fingers tangled in her tresses; him nuzzling her nose and her cheek affectionately as he professed his love over and over. He whispered the words of matrimony over her lips, brushing his thumb against her lips — sealing his words and yet another promise.

They couldn't do this… They really shouldn't, because it would just hurt them both.

But he was stubborn. He had _always _been stubborn for as long as she knew him. And her words of protest died in her throat as he asserted—

"It's not a lie. I love you and it's not a lie. I won't let you cast that aside!"

She could have resisted him. She could have easily maneuvered herself to escape his grip. But she didn't. And she knew in her heart of hearts that she didn't want to. All manner of resistance had dissipated from the moment he pressed her flush against his own body as he claimed her lips with a painful kiss.

A kiss so assertive she could have sworn she'd bruise. Teeth nipped at her lips and his tongue slipped between her parted lips. Behind closed eyelids, the world spun faster and faster, until her own grip on solid reality began to slip — until she had no one else but him to anchor her to where they were, and what they had been doing.

He pulled back to catch his breath. Through her panting and her kiss-swollen lips, she tried in vain to speak.

"Lelouch, we can't. We have to—"

"It's done." Came his dejected reply. "So be it. But until the day I'm forced to marry her, I will have no other woman but you."

And perhaps before that day could come, he swore to the old gods and the new that he would find a way to _break _this sham of a marriage and still secure the alliance. She'd see. He'd make Circe see that he would do everything in his power to keep the ones he loved close.

_She _would be his queen, and no other. And that was why he refused to speak anymore about the matter. He would have her tonight… And many more nights after.

When he kissed her this time, her lips were pliant. And they parted for him as heat and passion poured into her. His hold on her slackened, and he held her face as if he held a baby bird, brushing his fingertips over her cheekbones while she embraced him and returned his fervent kisses. Fabric rustled and leathers were shrugged off as other bits of clothing were pushed aside and shimmied lower past the knees.

Clad only in her white undershirt with nothing underneath, she watched him as he removed what was left of his upper garments. The leather vest dropped unceremoniously at the foot of the cot. The Prince was half naked and had been in the middle of undoing the knots that secured his pants when one of the flaps of the royal tent were pushed aside, and Kallen Stadtfeld marched in without pause or consideration.

When she'd spotted his Highness's half nakedness and CC without her mask, it had been too late. The heady spell of lust came crashing down as the spell was broken. Surprised and confused, the trio exchanged wary glances, all frozen in place. But neither of the couple were more bewildered than Kallen. CC watched the other woman's face closely as she froze seven feet away from them, as one expression after another flickered into existence in Kallen's eyes.

Surprised to apologetic to confused…

Kallen didn't know what to make of _this _situation. And her cautious gaze darted from the Prince who was in the middle of stripping and to the stranger of a beautiful woman who occupied his makeshift bed — naked under the long and thin undershirt.

Who was _this _woman? Where was CC? And more importantly, how does Lelouch find the time to satisfy his wanton needs after how their day just went?

She didn't mean to be condescending, but if the strange woman took it that way, then so be it. Blue eyes scanned the rather exotic-looking woman from head to what-she-could-see of her toes. Luscious and long green hair fell at the woman's waist, while striking bullion eyes stared back unflinchingly.

It seemed Lelouch vi Britannia was no stranger to accommodating the needs of his loins. But if he was in the middle of bedding a woman, what did_ that _make CC then? For all his claim at virtue and for being somewhat of a prude, it looked like he was no different from the ordinary man longing to satisfy cravings of the carnal nature.

"What do you need Kallen?" The Prince asked in a weary voice, retying the strings that secured his pants before his gaze wandered to the abandoned shirt in the middle of the fresh rushes.

Following his gaze, the redhead smirked, picked up his discarded shirt and tossed it towards him. "The lords of the Reach need to convene with you for a short time."

She expected disappointment to cloud his features, but it didn't. Instead, he gave a resigned sigh before glancing towards the strange woman sitting on his bed. "Very well. Give me time to dress myself and I'll be out."

"I'll try and find CC." The redhead offered, and added as an afterthought. "Pay your woman double." She nodded towards the stranger in his bed. "Something tells me this meeting will drag on well into the night." Kallen commented, uncaring about how uncouth she might have sounded.

She was annoyed, _damn it._ But she wasn't going to tell _him _that. She wasn't going to entertain the idea of being somewhat envious of the woman either. Any woman with eyes could objectively acknowledge Lelouch vi Britannia's charms and pretty face. So if _she _had the occasional fancy of being momentarily attracted to him, it was nobody's business. None but hers, because she was the only person who knew.

Unbeknownst to Kallen, her words affected Lelouch more than he let on. Some part of him knew he shouldn't care about Kallen's words. She had no idea what had been going on, or of the loaded conversation that had happened. She was clueless to the exchange between two lovers. But to hear her address CC as if she were some wench from a tavern off the road somewhere — even out of naivety, rubbed salt into an open and bleeding wound.

"She's not—" He was about to say, but was interrupted once again as CC rose from his bed and started gathering her discarded clothes.

"It's no trouble at all, Your Highness. I can return some other time." Not bothering to clear her face of the long hair getting in the way, she bowed briefly towards Kallen — acting unnervingly like an ordinary tavern wench from somewhere off the main road. "Pardon me, milady. I'll be taking my leave."

"You're no whore, CC. Stop pretending to be one."

A confused noble lady and a bewildered assassin stared at the Prince as he shrugged his leather vest back on, doing the laces himself and not bothering to call for assistance from one of the squires or privacy from the two women currently in his tent. He was too wary to care — emotionally weighed down by choices thrust upon him.

"CC…" Kallen trailed off, thoroughly confused as she glanced at Lelouch and took a good long look at the other woman standing unnervingly still in her plain undershirt, face devoid of any strong expressions. "What are you—"

"In the days ahead, you'll be working closely with CC anyway. So you might as well know. A faceless man of Braavos is in my service, and she is in this very room with us."

"I— You're saying—"

Kallen's surprise and confusion would have amused her to no end on a normal day. And though she had some serious doubts about revealing what she really was to the lady of Casterly Rock, CC didn't argue. She'd overstepped a line with Lelouch today (no matter that it had been for his own good). To atone even just a bit, she wouldn't contest him further — for the time being, at least.

With a resigned sigh, the faceless woman agreed and gave the confirmation the redhead needed to hear.

Yes, she was a faceless woman.

And the renowned and revered Prince of the Seven Kingdoms wanted her as his future queen.

vVvVv

Everyone folded to the whims of Fate, and everyone met death at the end of their long and harrowing journey. None were exempt… Not even individuals of _grand _authority. Just looking upon him now filled him with an odd sort of melancholy. For upon first hearing the news, his thoughts had been rife with sorrow and confusion.

He wasn't in _anguish_… Didn't even find it in himself to grieve. The indifference he discovered was more appalling to him.

How could he feel _no sorrow _for the passing of the man who sired him.

What kind of son was he? What did this make him?

How _dare _he call himself his father's progeny?

Laying upon his bed with the sheets tucked neatly around his chest, the Emperor of Westeros lay still. His body just a mere shell of the man that had ruled the Seven Kingdoms with a mighty iron fist.

Odysseus could only hope he'd be half the ruler his father was…

And what a mess the late Emperor had left behind too.

Westeros was in turmoil. The Seven Kingdoms were in an uproar ever since his younger brother raised the banner of rebellion across the land. The disappearance of his sisters followed soon after. Clovis and Schneizel were spurred into action while Emperor Charles' trusted council-men — the likes of Sir Bismarck — stayed at King's Landing. What more, they were barely recovering from the consecutive deaths of his father's allies.

To say that Westeros was in a state of anarchy was somewhat of an understatement.

As Lelouch marched with his army towards the capital; as Schneizel worked to subdue this _grand _rebellion, revolts had bloomed from every corner of the kingdom. House Britannia's reputation was in disarray. And with each day that passed, the grumblings of his people grew ever louder.

The dissent festering through Westeros was the very reason why none knew of the Emperor's passing last night. Only the members of the small Council and Crown Prince — now King-to-be — Odysseus knew of His Majesty's tragic fate. Taken by dysentery.

Odysseus hadn't the faintest inkling of how to break the news to his sisters here in the capital. If he did though, and the rest of the Red Keep would hear, the news would spread like wildfire. It would reach Schneizel on the North, Clovis on the field, and Lelouch and Cornelia in the Riverlands. But not yet…

"No other man could possibly come close to being a ruler like him." He found himself saying as he kept one hand on the tall bedpost while he looked upon his father's pallid face. "Did he leave behind a will, Lord Bismarck?"

"No, Your Grace. His Majesty never had the chance to create one before he became indisposed."

"I see…"

"But by right of succession, _you _are the heir to his throne, Your Grace."

Odysseus sighed. "And there is just _so much _to be done."

He and the rest of the small Council had to create a concrete plan of action on how to deal with the Empire's sorrows before they revealed the Emperor's death and Odysseus' inevitable ascension to the Iron Throne.

And they needed to create a concrete plan quickly.

For days, Odysseus had deliberated and procrastinated on dealing with the uprisings and the common people's revolt. Thinking back on it now, he could see just how disappointing he had been. How could he hope to squash his brother's rebellion if he couldn't even solve King's Landing's own uprisings?

Nevertheless, half of Odysseus still wished Schneizel could work decisively and quickly enough to defeat Lelouch on the field, rather than let their younger brother come to King's Landing with his army ready to take advantage of the chaos and storm the city walls. Not that Odysseus knew anything about Lelouch's more recent activities. _That _matter had been relegated to Lord Waldstein before his late father had succumbed to the illness ravaging his body.

Sighing through his nose, Odysseus solemnly bent the knee before His Majesty's bed, took the Emperor's limp and cold hand, and kissed his father's signet ring in reverence and to receive some semblance of a blessing for his own ascension to the Throne.

A prince had knelt, and a new Emperor rose to his feet as he stalked outside of the eerily cold bedchamber.

He had _plenty _of arrangements to make…


	12. The New Heirs

**A/N: As nonsensical as this story is, I still want to thank you for reading it, for adding it to your faves, and for following. Thank you so much Command Unit, The221, Akira-Hayama, Freudentraene, Euryphaessa Gray, void242, my Guest reviewer, wootanin, and Genesis09 for leaving thoughts on the last installment.**

**Lelouch gets emotional when it concerns people he love. And we all know, emotions throw wits out the window in the worst of times.**

**Also, I've been getting suggestions about crossovers with other TV series like Stranger Things, and as much as I would like to (and would say that the possibilities are endless), I don't think I could do that at the moment. I haven't seen Stranger Things yet XD (Throw stones!)**

**Anyways, please continue to stay safe from the virus everyone! :)**

* * *

**The New Heirs**

"_A long time ago, there lived a wealthy merchant's daughter who loved her seaside home in Volantis very very much…"_

_This wealthy merchant's daughter had her home and her name stolen from her. On the day when everything fell apart, her mother had bid her run. And run she did… Only to end up right back to where it all began; this time, in the care of an aunt and an uncle who had little regard for taking her father's kin under her wing._

"_What happened after?" He asked quietly, tenderly clearing the side of her face of messy strands of sweat-soaked hair._

"_They needed more money to sustain the opulent lifestyle they stole from my family, so they decided on selling me."_

"_Sell you to the House of Black and White?"_

_The candle light flickered eerily in her bullion irises when she tilted her face upwards to look at him. Shaking her head, she resumed distracting herself by tracing random patterns along his chest — all manner of whorls, straight lines, curves, and zigzags._

"_To one of the pleasure houses of Lys."_

"_Were you brought there?"_

"_I gave them much trouble." Grinning, she shifted on the bed, so their faces were aligned and their noses touched. "They chased me through the streets. I just count myself lucky to have not had more than seven men after me. I was so afraid, so I hid in a ship and fell asleep. I awoke at dawn, I believe, and realized my fair city was naught but a tiny dot in the distance._

"_The men were headed for Braavos. I wandered for a fortnight, too afraid to sail home. But even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I had no money — no clothes except for the ones I wore. And no one wanted to give a dirty green-haired girl any jobs, except for the less-savory choice of selling my body — which I didn't want._

"_I took shelter in front of a pair of black-and-white doors of the temple of the many-faced god. It provided good cover from the rain, one night. Until one day the white door opened, and a waif stepped out to ask what my business was. I told them I didn't know. I told them I was hungry. _

"'_A girl must serve if she wants to eat,' she said. I didn't know what it meant. But I was dying, so I followed when she brought me in. Years later, they deemed me unworthy, expelled me from the Order, and I was on the run with my life again… I found myself in Westeros, and after hearing of a particular young Prince's stark achievements, decided I wanted to serve under him._

"_He has never lost a battle, they said. He was skilled at suppressing rebellion, and never shied away from danger. I decided if I was going to serve someone to survive, I might as well do so for one of the most powerful and capable men in the continent._

"_And now I'm here. I've done quite well for myself, wouldn't you say?"_

_He rewarded her question with a sly little smile and a sultry kiss — their lips melding together, tongues twining as he held her chin. One of his hands wandered south, and she didn't protest when he pushed one leg aside. The lips she loved to kiss traveled lower as well, paying special attention to the curve of her jaw, the delicate jut at her clavicle, and lower still to the valley between her breasts._

_And no matter how many times they did this, how many times they lost themselves in one another, her heart always quickened in pace. It wasn't because of the constant motion. The romantic part of her liked to think there was simply no other man who could make her heart tremble._

"My _Circe…"_

"_My Lelouch."_

vVvVv

Balanced between Gino Weinberg and Bismarck Waldstein, Odysseus eu Britannia heaved and grunted with much effort. The two knights panted as they wrested their trembling Emperor to-be away from the doors of the outer walls that led to the rioting crowd beyond. He could still hear the shouts and the shrieks and the scraping of steel as the Gold Cloaks worked to subdue the unrest.

Momentarily safe within the outer walls, servants were running every which way, and soldiers were grabbing weapons.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted his sisters trembling. Guinevere clutched her cloak tighter around her, and Carine was bawling her eyes out. What remained of his late father's consorts were ushered into the inner keep by the guards. The lords and ladies that joined the Emperor's funeral and had been part of the processional were a mess. Some of the men still had their weapons drawn, and the women were sobbing or simply staring into empty space — visibly shaken from the near-death experience they all just shared.

In the midst of the chaos, Odysseus heard his own voice shout for some refreshment — water or wine, it didn't matter. He needed something to soothe his nerves.

It happened far too quickly. The side of his face still bore the evidence that started the riot. He didn't have to look at the smears that came away on his fingers to know what they were.

You only had to smell the manure and the piss to know it was there. Someone apparently thought it funny to chuck their chamber pot at their new Emperor.

Not even crowned yet, and now he had _this _to deal with.

"Call for a meeting of the small council, _immediately_." Odysseus wheezed, accepting a damp handkerchief from his squire as he wiped his face in a vain attempt to look presentable.

vVvVv

"Insolent _fools_! All of them. We ought to have them hanged, drawn, and quartered!"

Odysseus watched his sister seethe in all her finery as she paced the length of the Small Council chamber. The rest of the members present looked equally haggard and frazzled. Due to the urgency of the meeting, none had the luxury of changing clothes yet. So Lord Shin Hyuga Shaing of Dorne still wore the wrinkled mourning clothes he'd donned at the Sept during the funeral service. And Lord Bismarck Waldstein's snow white cloak frayed at the ends and turned khaki from the mud and gore.

All except the Princess Guinevere, that is. After the riot in the streets, her guards and handmaidens whisked her away to bathe and change out of her damaged clothes.

"Sister, _please_. They are our people. However they may have acted can be excused for—"

"Pardon me, _Brother_. But what they have done is tantamount to _treason_. If the punishment for treason among the highborn is beheading, how severely should treason be dealt with among the lowest of the low, do you think?" Guinevere's eyes narrowed fiercely as she stopped pacing, lifted her chin in defiance, and stared Bismarck in the eyes. "They struck their would-be Emperor, and _dared _to harm the nobility that keeps them fed. Have the Knights of the Round and the gold cloaks round up 70 peasants."

"For questioning, your Highness?" The Grand Maester squeaked in a quivering voice, and Guinevere resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"The Red Keep dungeons are _teeming with rebels_. We can't very well _punish _every citizen in King's Landing. We don't know their names and their faces. Set an example for others who would _dare _try again. Hang 70 people. This sort of execution is merciful enough."

"But we have another execution for the rebels scheduled in the next 7 days. We're putting many people to death lately." Odysseus commented, clasping his hands below his chin as he stared solemnly at the surface of the table. "What do you suppose our father would have done?"

"Late Emperor Charles zi Britannia would never balk at this. Every traitor _must die_. Those imbeciles have risen up against us, and it is our _duty _to put them in their places. You need to remind them why they are what they are, and _why _they should _revere you_." Guinevere stared at her older brother and saw the face of a man who was unsure of what to do.

Odysseus had _always been _gentle. He was soft and tender and an extreme pacifist. She knew he wanted _peace. _Twas a noble wish. But she regretted to say that their Crown Prince lacked the ruthlessness necessary to hold a tattered Empire together. How she wished for Schneizel's presence at this very moment. He would have known what to do. He would have acted decisively and _quickly_ and _shrewdly_.

Alas, he was in the North… Clovis rode for the Riverlands with his best generals to subdue their other siblings' rebellion. The Lords are choosing sides. The Realm is in absolute _anarchy_. They _didn't need _the common people to turn against them too.

"We'll put _40 men to death_, not 70, to set an example." Lord Waldstein spoke up resolutely, exercising his authority as Hand. "I believe that would send a sufficient message."

"Very well." Guinevere sighed and finally claimed her seat, glancing at her sullen brother pointedly. "What of _Lelouch_?" She spat.

"Prince Clovis has him at the Trident." Lord Shin nodded once. "We have other concerns. Spies report a Dornish armada has dropped anchor at the Reach."

"Dornish…" Odysseus trailed off hesitantly, fixing blue eyes on Lord Shin Hyuuga. He was the Dornish Lord of the Small Council. He was supposed to represent the interests of the Dornish Princes — the men who ruled the land of sands and scorching sun.

Lord Shin grimaced. "It seems Prince Suzaku has gone around his father's back and took his war ships to sail for the Reach."

"Is Genbu Kururugi aware of this?" Bismarck asked in a gruff voice, eyes narrowing to thin slits as the wrinkles on his tanned skin deepened in prominence.

"I've written to him, my Lord — as Lord Shin instructed beforehand." The Grand Maester replied. "I have received no raven."

"As much as I loathe to consider the possible treason of mine own homeland, I serve the Crown first and foremost." Lord Shin declared dramatically, earning him the attention of everyone present at the table. "We'll assume Prince Suzaku Kururugi is headed to King's Landing to lay siege to our capital."

"Oh not him too." Odysseus lamented. "There's no bad blood between House Britannia and House Kururugi, why would Dorne raise its banners against us—?"

Guinevere's glower could have beheaded men. It seems their little brother had a talent for turning children against their parents. First Lord Stadtfeld's daughter from Casterly Rock, and now _Dorne_?

"There is no animosity between our two houses, but there is _strife _happening within our _own family_. Lelouch shares a tight friendship with Suzaku. In events like this where our father's children are squabbling for the Throne, which Britannian Prince do you think Suzaku would ally himself with?"

No one deigned to speak up to the Princess — not even Odysseus. Anyone who'd lived in King's Landing the day Lady Marianne gave birth to her son would know that Prince Lelouch had befriended Prince Suzaku — the little Dornish noble fostered at King's Landing for a good 8 years.

"The boy loves our half-sister, Euphemia. And Lelouch has Euphemia with him."

"In any case, his oaths compel him to serve the _Realm_, and not the usurper." Grand Maester reasoned, as if that would fix everything.

Princess Guinevere's smile was cruel. "When my father was crowned Emperor, Genbu Kururugi was the one who came and swore fealty. Suzaku wasn't even born yet. I have reason to believe the boy could use that as an excuse to take the side of his friend rather than the Crown."

"We're surrounded by traitors." Bismarck sighed dismally.

Odysseus looked like he'd lost all hope of ever ruling a continent in shambles. And truth be told, Guinevere was _tired _of watching her brother mope. He'd shone with resolve and determination when he told her and Carine about their father's passing. But that courage was feeble and fleeting. Now all she saw was plain old Odysseus and his love for books. Their Crown Prince had _never seen _and never so much as handled military campaigns (that fell on Schneizel, Lelouch, or Cornelia), and neither did Guinevere.

But bugger all the seven hells if she would stand by and watch her older brother squirm in that giant Iron Throne.

"In any case, Lord Shin, I need you to oversee siege preparations. Because the Reach declared for my younger brother, let's not expect provisions from them to aid our war." Guinevere declared, and Lord Shin nodded in agreement.

"Grand Maester, send your fastest ravens to the Houses who haven't declared for the rebel Prince. Write that this is a command from their Emperor." Bismarck explained. "Have them send supply wagons. We need to draw up provisions that will last us 3 months at least. I'm doubtful the siege will last that long, but to be sure."

"What of our other concerns?"

Guinevere gave her brother a long look. "We'll erect a defense for King's Landing first. I don't care much for the peasants after what they've done, and they can go _die_. But I _will not _let our impudent little brother put us to shame and steal the Red Keep from under our noses."

vVvVv

Prudent of Lelouch to seek an alliance with the most plentiful territory in Westeros. True enough, no hostile force arrived to intercept the Dornish armada's docking at the Reach's harbor. Of course, the sizes of the war ships gathered stares and whispers, but it wasn't anything dangerous. It also helped that he sent word to Lord Lamperouge at Highgarden to tell him about his plans. Plus, his naval army needed some respite from the sea and its tumultuous waves too.

The intelligence reports he received days ago had confirmed that his best friend's army was in the Riverlands. Barring other nasty complications, they _should _arrive at King's Landing after 7 more days of marching. Suzaku and his Dornish armada needed to lay siege to the capital ideally days ahead of the Prince's estimated arrival. And in lieu of that conclusion, Suzaku decided they needed more siege weapons. Gods knew his war ships housed plenty already, but crafting a few more certainly couldn't hurt.

Underneath the cowl of a traveler's cloak and simple clothes, the Prince of Dorne left the comforts of the Royal liner to mingle with the rest of the people conducting daily business close to the docks.

Merchants had their wares, tax collectors accounted for debts, seafood for sale for miles on end, and of course, it was easy to spot barrels and barrels of Arbor gold being transported from wagons to a single but notable cargo ship.

There was another reason why he commanded the fleet to dock at the Reach…

He had business with Lady Leila Breiskau-Redwyne — sole owner of acres upon acres of vineyards and the one woman responsible for supplying the noblemen of Westeros with the fine Arbor Gold they craved.

The shadow of the cargo ship cast lengthy shapes across the stony shores, providing shade to men hauling goods aboard. Here, a man he presumed to be the Captain of the ship greeted him, reverently spouting pleasantries before escorting the Dornish Prince to where he needed to be. He thanked the middle-aged gentleman kindly as he left him at the threshold of what Suzaku presumed to be Lady Leila's lavish cabin.

"Prince Suzaku Kururugi." Dressed in a gown of flowing silk with her fair hair tied up to an intricate up-do, Lady Leila stood from her seat. The most welcoming smile stretched across her lips as she approached him and gave a courtly bow. "It's an honor to have you. Please, have some refreshment."

She led him to the banquet table just beyond the archway that separated the foyer from her cabin's dining space. Eight empty chairs, but before him lay food that could serve four or six.

"It's not necessary, but I'm grateful for your hospitality anyway." Suzaku returned the Lady's smile as he graciously claimed the seat at the head of the table. Lady Leila sat to his right, gesturing for a steward to pour some of the decadent wine into their goblets.

"I was traveling through the Free Cities of Valyria when I received word from Lord Lamperouge, calling his banners to join in a war for Westeros' liberation." She delicately nibbled on a grape, as she watched the steward leave. "But from what exactly?"

There was no such thing as a surprise attack within Westeros — unless the Realm's spymaster should die, Suzaku Kururugi knew most of his movements were being reported back to the Red Keep, traveling hundreds of miles to reach the Emperor's ears. Keeping things quiet were hit-or-miss. True, the lesser and greater Houses of the Reach had pledged allegiance to Lelouch, but one could never be too careful.

So instead of answering her question outright, he deigned to ask instead, "Are you fond of the Emperor?"

She seemed to catch on to his train of thought as she coyly smiled against the rim of her wine goblet before taking a sip. "If there are spies listening, I should say 'yes.' But since there's no room for pretenses in this conversation, I would say you already know my answer. Why else would I commit 25 Redwyne cargo ships to your cause? They're not built for naval battle, but I'm sure they can be of help."

The majority of the Redwyne fleet and its warships were committed to the Crown, adding to the Royal Fleet. But for the infiltration plans they had in place, yes, the cargo ships are a _great _help. "They would be. Thank you, my Lady."

Leila cleared her throat, replacing her drink and sitting up straighter as she said, "His Majesty, Lelouch vi Britannia, gave instructions that I work with you regarding this."

Usually, titles went over Suzaku's head. But not this time around. Why would she address his best friend as 'His Majesty'? As far as he knew, only the Emperor deserved to have such a title.

Nevertheless, the Prince found himself agreeing. "I _am _in-charge of the naval siege."

"Quite an opportune time to take the City. Especially now that a different ruler occupies the Iron Throne."

A _different ruler?_

Was there something he missed? Suzaku Kururugi had been at sea for the past few days, and the days before that, he had spent a short amount of time at Dragonstone with his new fiancee. Any news regarding the Emperor's health or life had not reached him at all.

"What are you—"

Leila supplied the needed information quickly, as if she _expected _his puzzlement somehow. "My friends within the Red Keep have informed me of late Emperor Charles' unfortunate passing."

"So—" He was _dead_. Charles zi Britannia no longer _lived_…

"Emperor Odysseus now sits as ruler. And the people don't approve. The Knights of the Round have been doing their best to suppress internal revolts, but resistance groups crop up and take arms all the same. I hear the Red Keep dungeons are now teeming with them, and executions are a daily occurrence — left and right. The word on the street is that the majority clamor for Emperor _Lelouch_."

He eyed the spread of dishes before him warily, but made no move to eat anything edible — too distracted with the load of news dumped before him. It made perfect sense why the people of King's Landing clamored for a different heir. The common people were quite fond of their raven-haired Prince.

"Is Lelouch aware of these turn of events?"

Leila shook her head, clasping her hands before her own untouched plate. "I think not. Otherwise, we would have heard from him by now about any alterations to the plan. The Imperial family has kept news of the last Emperor's death from spreading within the first few days."

"I suppose you couldn't tell me who your informant is in the Red Keep?"

"Lady Victoria li Britannia."

"Princess Cornelia and Euphemia's mother…" Suzaku trailed off, recalling a woman with lush fuchsia locks and blue-violet irises. He'd met her on passing during one or two occasions, but never really acquainted himself with her. But considering the fact that she would be his mother-in-law soon, perhaps he should.

Leila nodded in agreement, oblivious to his thoughts. "The very same. She's quite upset the girls were spirited away at the behest of their half-brother. She asks me where they are."

"Princess Cornelia is with Lelouch in the Riverlands."

"And Princess Euphemia?"

At the mention of his love's name from another person, Suzaku couldn't help thinking back to how she looked just before he set sail. She stood at the shore with her engagement necklace cupped in one hand, watching his ship — and _him — _leave until they disappeared over the horizon.

"I apologize, Lady Leila, but I'm not at a liberty to disclose such information."

To her credit, the Lady didn't seem offended. She only gave him a sad smile. "What a shame. But I suppose it's for the best. Anyway, I'll send word to Lord Lamperouge that we've spoken. We leave the day after tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"And what of your building?"

"My men can complete the new siege weapons while we're at sea."

"Most pleasing to hear, Prince Suzaku."

Suzaku drank the last of his wine, and rose from the chair — wresting the folds of his cloak that snagged against the corners of the furniture. "I'm grateful for your time, Lady Leila."

"It was an honor to have you, Prince. The day after tomorrow then."

He bid her one last nod of farewell and left her ship as quietly as he came. The workmen were loading the last of the cargo, and the Captain of his Royal liner, Akito Hyuuga was waiting for him — a sealed and rolled up piece of parchment pinched between his fingertips.

"A letter from the Riverlands, my Prince."

vVvVv

Calares' regrouped forces were more vicious than the first. Their numbers supplemented by the Knights of the Vale charging under Prince Clovis la Britannia's command, the reinforced army cut through their vanguard with ease, until they met with their mounted soldiers.

It was her second battle, and details still flashed in her mind's eye. Her custom-made armor that once gleamed under the sun was now cloudy and speckled with more than just dirt. She and the rest of the fighting men now wore the reek of death and blood like perfume. And in spite of the protection, the nasty fluids still clung to her skin. Yet again, the fields were littered with screaming and dying men.

Needless to say, they won. Their battle ended with Calares crushed underneath the body of his destrier, and Prince Clovis la Britannia in the custody of his younger brother. The rest of the living men threw down their swords, yelled and cried to surrender, and raised a white flag.

Already, she could see empty wagons drawn by horses, overseen by the Silent Sisters. The living heaped the dead on these wagons, piling them one on top of the other as if they were nothing more than heavy bales of hay. Kallen heaved a sigh as she slowly continued making her way through the battlefield, only to stop when she spotted a familiar head of raven hair tied in a braid.

Kallen now knew what CC was, and what she _really _looked like. But the mask the faceless woman usually wore was the face that was more familiar to her. By all standards, that pretty girl with her gold eyes and green hair and half-undressed last night was still a stranger.

_Gods, _a _Faceless Man_. And who could have ever guessed? She'd always heard of Lelouch's queer ways and from her time in King's Landing, knew of his odd companion choices, but CC's presence in his internal retinue _certainly _took the cake.

"CC!"

The woman cast her a glance, and still continued with her self-imposed task nonetheless.

"Where were you?" Kallen asked, running a hand through her matted red hair.

"I was here."

"No you weren't." Kallen frowned. CC was usually stationed at the vanguard, except today.

"I aided near the end. His Royal Highness had other plans for me." CC said, grunting with effort as she hooked her elbows underneath a particular dead man's mutilated body.

"Did it have anything to do with the Farnese soldiers refusing to join us in _this _battle?" Kallen spied the smirk that was half-hidden in locks of CC's raven hair falling across her face. "Lelouch's pretty pissed about that, I'll bet."

CC snorted, loading another dead body into the wagon. "Of course he is. Imagine agreeing to a lesser lord's terms only to not receive promised aid when the fighting has started."

Kallen watched CC curiously as she secured thick and lengthy bits of rope around the wagon's posts and planks, ensuring no dead man slipped out of containment. "Do you think we'll be in for another fight?"

"Against Farnese, no. Unlikely. We need the men."

"But after what he's done today, can we _trust _Farnese to keep his words, and—"

"Only men without wits will ever trust a bitter old oaf like Farnese."

CC mounted the horse at the head of her unusual cargo, leaving Kallen standing there, looking up at her with confusion still written across her face.

"You really don't need to do that. Let the men and the Silent Sisters take care of the bodies. They'll burn them and take the ashes to the families."

Kallen would have _sworn _that the little quirk at the corner of CC's lips made her look condescending.

"Everyone is entitled to the spoils of battle, wouldn't you agree?"

'_Spoils of battle,' seriously?_

"You have more than enough weaponry." Kallen huffed, eyeing the weapon's belt CC had around her hips. It was two swords today, with the hilt of a finely made dagger peeking out of the folds of her cloak. Visible weapons, and yet, Kallen knew that she still had the invisible ones on her person — much like the throwing knives the woman had launched at her during their brief spar.

"It's not their weapons I'm after." That sly smirk widened to show all teeth. "Cremated men have no need for faces."

vVvVv

Prince Clovis la Britannia had always enjoyed the riches afforded to him by his noble birth. Among his brothers, he was always the most well-dressed, the most eccentric. He was the one with a flair for the arts. He was a skilled painter and patron of the arts — not a warrior.

"With you and our older sister in command, I did not hold much hope for victory." Clovis mumbled, disheartened and looking defeated as he sat on a cot with his legs, ankles, arms, and hands bound. "You _were _the Realm's Chief Military Overseer for a reason, little brother. Why are you doing this, Lelouch?"

It was no use to try and make him understand. Even if Lelouch went as far as to give the barest details of his reasons, he always knew his passions and motivations would fall on deaf ears. It would not sway a man who was wholly loyal to their wretch of a Father. His reasonings held no water because the success of his campaign would ultimately mean the end of the excessive riches the highborn in the Red Keep indulged upon.

Cornelia watched sadly as her two brothers exchanged verbal blows, one impassioned speaker over the other. Their family was coming to ruin… How fitting still, because it's what Charles zi Britannia would have wanted to see. True, he appointed a Crown Prince and gave his children command over armies and opportunities to rule, but they weren't strangers to the fact that their sire upheld the principle of the strong lording over the weak. He wanted many children so the Realm won't lack an heir, and he wanted them to stake their claims and earn their places in Court.

Odysseus' claim to the Throne was only as strong as their other siblings would allow it. In their father's mind, whoever was strong would ultimately rule, while the weak would be cast-aside. This particular way of thinking was more heavily enforced on the sons he bore — not so much on the Princesses, though they _were _welcome to try and seize power.

It was why Cornelia insisted on becoming a warrior herself — if only to have the capabilities to protect Euphemia as well. Lelouch thought along the same wavelength but for Nunnally.

"You're more than welcome to that Throne you're so thirsty for now." Clovis snorted, breaking Cornelia out of her reverie. "Father passed away from illness. Odysseus now sits as ruler."

vVvVv

The Emperor — late Emperor now — Charles zi Britannia no longer lived. And none ended his existence but the simple course of a disease. Clovis wasn't keen on details, and that left Cornelia wondering what did it. Was it consumption? The pox? The plague? But above all thoughts of what caused their sire's swift departing from their world, she and her younger brother had more pressing matters to attend to.

Their soldiers were in the middle of doing their full accounting and the majority of the camp was engaged in post-battle affairs first thing in the morning. Cornelia dropped the flap of her brother's massive tent and turned to him, cleaning blood off of his sword — or what little there was of it since he led the party that apprehended Clovis.

"Do we still take King's Landing? Father is dead."

"And whether it's a fabrication or the truth, our strategic objective remains the same. This war isn't _just _vengeance and justice for my Mother's death any longer. Or have you forgotten?"

Identical pairs of violet eyes cut across the short distance, before Cornelia broke it as she shook her head. "I have not."

"Besides, who sits on the Iron Throne doesn't concern me as much as how silent the North has been."

2nd Prince Schneizel el Britannia held the North. And it was simply odd that there was nothing going on in his end. He was always one to let his own selfish ambitions masquerade as public service. And that was part of the reason why even during Lelouch's years as a Prince serving under the Crown, Lelouch had never trusted him fully.

"Schneizel doesn't _want _war."

"Does he? He always claims that he wants what's best for the Realm. In his eyes, and the others, that means putting a stop to me, at the moment. A man like that won't sit idly by while another is winning support and gathering power."

"You're wary of him." Not a question at all.

Lelouch eyed his sister carefully. She didn't have to reveal her feelings outright, but he knew that Cornelia had slivers of affection for _all _of their kin (as messed up as it was, and as cutthroat as their family's ideals were). She _knew _as well as he did that any member of House Britannia could conspire to overthrow one and crown the other. Weren't his father's consorts prime examples of failed attempts? And yet, Cornelia li Britannia cared for them all — in her own way.

"Only a lack-wit wouldn't be." He had worked with his brother on several occasions, after all. Schneizel was always crafty and masterfully hid plans in order to succeed. In a way, Lelouch's own methods were sometimes a warped reflection of that.

"What do you expect him to do? He hasn't sent for an army. Our scouts report no activity in the Barrowlands, the Neck, or the White Knife. He could be biding his time." Cornelia frowned. "But how will _that _serve him if he doesn't plan to act until we arrive at the gates of King's Landing? Presuming he's going to do something."

Well, it was somewhat clear, wasn't it. Schneizel didn't plan on doing anything, when— "He already _has _plans in place."

An astonished expression came over Cornelia's face, and she looked at him as if he had all the answers. "What are they?"

"That's what we've yet to know."

"Very well, I'll have some of the men—"

Lelouch shook his head. "Men scurrying about are too suspicious. I've sent CC."

Men spying around and trying to disguise themselves to blend in was too great of a risk. Plus, why should he have to put his trust in _several _spies, when he had a faceless man at his disposal to do the espionage for him?

"You're suspecting the Lord at the Twins?"

Lelouch shrugged and returned the pristine blade back into the scabbard. "According to what _you _told me, Farnese wasn't eager to cast his lot for _our cause. _His first reaction was to snitch us to Clovis and Calares, presumably allied with Schneizel and with no agenda of their own. Even after we've informally agreed to his terms, Farnese didn't aid us in this battle either." Lelouch gave her a knowing glance. "I'm sure when we confront him later, he'll tell us it's his test of sorts. Empty excuses when he's already thrown in with us from the moment we agreed to his _ridiculous_ terms."

Terms he was going to worm out of eventually. He'd thought up a plan, but wasn't keen on sharing it with anyone just yet. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it. One way or the other, he would wriggle him and Euphemia out of the marriage arrangements.

Cornelia took a while to process his words and draw up her own conclusions.

If Farnese aided them and they _won_, the old Lord would have to make excuses about fighting on their side to Schneizel and the others — presuming they were conspiring together. If the Lord at the Twins aided them and they _lost_, it would entail the same consequences. The issue was on the fact that he fought with Lelouch's army.

Understanding things from Farnese's duplicitous point of view, it was safer to stay behind castle walls and leave the fighting to the army that was already garrisoned outside and vulnerable. Less risks and less suspicions.

"If that's the case, he has to have _some _assurance that Clovis and the others wouldn't storm his walls and demand for reasons if we lost."

The smirk that quirked Lelouch's lips implied as much. "Exactly…"

"I'll leave you to it then." Cornelia nodded once, trusting in Lelouch and the task he'd delegated to CC. In any event, she'd best change her clothes if they were to meet the Lord of the Twin Towers face to face.

But before she left—

"We're keeping Clovis alive."

"He may be of some use to us, yet." Cursed is the kin-slayer, after all. "Unless he does something that puts our lives at sword point, yes, we keep him alive."


End file.
